Families and Flights of Feathers
by Daylight
Summary: A collection of one-shots focusing on Castiel and his connection with the family of Sam, Dean and Bobby. S5. Gen.
1. Walls Fall Down

_Author's Note: I'm using this as a spot to keep my collection of Castiel fanfiction that seems to keep increasing. They will all be gen, fairly short and focus mostly on the relationship between Castiel and the family that consists of Sam, Dean and Bobby. There will be angst, hurt/comfort, drama, action/adventure and humour. All of these fics have already been posted on LiveJournal. I hope you enjoy them. :)  
_

* * *

**Title**: Walls Fall Down  
**Characters: **Castiel, Dean, Sam  
**Ratings**: PG-13  
**Genre**: Angst with a little Hurt/Comfort  
**Word Count**: 2604  
**Spoilers**: Minor spoilers for season 5 up to 5x04  
**Summary**: _"The angel gazed once more at the rubble surrounding him. "I think a building fell on me.""_

**Walls Fall Down**

**By Daylight**

Something was making a noise, high pitch, repetitive and electronic.

A ringing.

A telephone ring.

His cell phone was ringing.

Castiel began reaching automatically for the pocket that contained the phone only to find his right arm didn't want to move. He tried moving it again and was surprised by a sudden spike of pain. Focusing his thoughts on the limb, he realized that one of the bones was broken, but couldn't recall how it had become so. He furrowed his forehead and decided he really should open his eyes. Trying to remember when or why he had shut them, he finally lifted his eyelids.

The first thing he saw was the stars. It was night, but that didn't matter to the angel who could see his surroundings clearly even in the darkness, at least as clearly as he could from where he lay on the ground. Debris surrounded him, broken slabs of concrete wall, bits of pipe and metal beams. A particular piece of cracked concrete rested across his legs. Blood was seeping through his suit and trench coat.

He wondered why he didn't feel any pain. The second after that thought he could suddenly feel every ache from his head to his toes. The sensation overwhelmed him and for a moment he became lost unable to think or even remember who he was. He dove deep into himself until he found his true self, his grace. But even that was weak and tired. He used what he could to push outward into his human body and the pain slowly began to dull down. It wasn't much, but he could think clearly again.

He tried to recall what had happened. He wasn't used to this, foggy memories and sluggish thoughts. There had been a battle. Angels and demons. He'd come to find what the demons were up to and stop them. A squadron of angels had arrived and had helped defeat the demons only to turn around and go after him. Apparently, he was still on the angels' shit list.

Castiel shook his head. He had to stop picking up Dean's mannerisms.

Dean... The telephone had stopped ringing, but that must have been Dean. Only three people had his number, but of those three, Dean was the one who usually called. He was supposed to meet up with Dean this morning. Or was it yesterday morning? He must have been unconscious. He wasn't used to such breaks in consciousness. It had happened so few times. The first had been when he was dead.

His cell began ringing again. This time he reached with his left arm. Aching muscles pulled against painful scrapes and bruises as he grabbed the phone out of his trench coat.

"Dean," he said as he flipped it open, his voice even hoarser than usual.

"Where the hell are you, Cas?" Dean demanded in lieu of a greeting.

"Utah," replied the angel after a moment's thought.

"Utah?"

"Yes."

He could hear the hunter growl on the other end of the line. "You were supposed to meet up with us in Montana ten hours ago. You said you'd help with this case."

"I'm sorry. I…" Castiel swallowed his chest feeling heavy. "I was otherwise occupied."

"I've called you a dozen times and you didn't answer," exclaimed Dean. "What were you doing? Searching for God in Antarctica? You couldn't leave a message or drop in for a few seconds to tell us you were busy? You don't even have voicemail. I wasn't able to leave you a message telling you what a…"

His rant was cut off and a sound of scuffling indicated the phone had changed owners.

"Sorry about that, Cas," said Sam. "He's just been worried about you."

Castiel could hear Dean yell something obscene in the background.

"What happened?" asked the younger Winchester.

The angel gazed once more at the rubble surrounding him. "I think a building fell on me."

"Sorry. What?"

"There was a battle." The memories of it were still strangely hazy. He couldn't even recall what injuries had occurred during the fight and what had been caused by falling debris. "The building was too old. It couldn't handle the combined forces of heaven and hell."

Sam tone went from confusion to worry. "Are you okay?"

Castiel took a moment to truly assess his situation. His human body seemed to be riddled by a disturbing number of injuries. Bones were broken, tissues torn. Growing stains of blood covered his dusty clothes. But more importantly his legs were trapped. Normally, that wouldn't have been a problem. Normally, he could have just spread his wings and shifted his whole body to another location, even all the way to where Sam and Dean were. But at the moment, his wings felt like heavy weights and his grace was drained from the battle, the remains of it trying to keep his human body functioning.

"I believe I'm stuck," he said, a slight waver making its way into his voice against his will. "I can't move."

"What do you mean you're stuck? Can't you just…" Sam stopped when Castiel began coughing.

It took the angel by surprise too. The heavy weight in his chest combined with a nauseating tickle and automatically his body began to convulse trying to dispel a liquid from his lungs which Castiel realized somewhat worryingly was blood.

"Castiel?" Sam was calling anxiously. "Cas?"

There was a fumbling noise and different voice cried out, "Cas!"

"Dean," Castiel said when the coughing finally stopped surprised at how weak his voice had become.

"Where are you?" Dean asked again, this time more soft and pleading.

"An old abandoned research station," Castiel replied and gave some directions.

"How bad is it?"

The angel decided Dean didn't need to hear the long list of injuries. "Bad," he simply said.

"Hang on. We'll be there in a few hours." Cas heard Dean take a long, shaky breath. "Just… hang on, okay?"

"Okay."

Castiel continued to hold the phone to his ear for a few minutes after Dean hung up not quite willing to let go of the connection. Sighing, he tiredly slipped the phone back in his pocket and went back to looking at the stars. He was suddenly hit by the incredible silence and emptiness of his setting. The research station was very much in the middle of nowhere. It reminded him of the night he spent patiently waiting by the roadside while Dean slept. But this was different. Here he was weakened and trapped, and very much aware of how vulnerable he was. If any demon or angel were to come across him like this…

A sudden crack and a loud thud startled him. It caused every one of his muscles to jump in a much too human reaction. The sound was likely just some of the debris settling, nevertheless he attempted to sit up and look around. An increasingly sharp stab in his chest soon brought him down again. He couldn't sense anyone nearby, but he was unsure how reliable his senses were at the moment. From what he could recall, all but one of the angels had already been killed before the building fell. Hopefully, the last one had been killed by the collapse or had left assuming Castiel was dead. He fought off the growing empty feeling in his chest refusing to dwell on the fact that more of his siblings were now dead by his hands.

Settling in to wait, he took a deep breath only to find himself thrown into another coughing fit, the forced convulsions making his already painful injuries hurt even more. The sensation threatened to overwhelm him again. He clenched his fist in frustration cursing the fact his weakened state left him enslaved to his fragile human body. If he still had the power of heaven to call on, he could have blown away the fragment of wall that trapped him and healed his injuries instantly. Instead, he had to wait for aid, trapped in a fleshy shell that seemed to have a will of its own. Even now, his limbs trembled involuntarily.

A sudden understanding came to him pulled from knowledge he'd long ago been given but never needed. The minute shaking, the contraction of his muscles, the sharp firing of nerves on his skin.

He was cold.

He'd never been cold before. He'd understood the concept, but had never actually felt it. It was not pleasant. He wished he could curl in on himself to preserve what little heat he had. The little he was able to move only sent more bolts of pain through him.

More knowledge surfaced in his mind and he realized something else: he was losing too much blood. He could feel his heart beating much too quickly and his lungs gasping for air. His blood pressure was slowly dropping, his body going into shock.

With an awareness no human possessed, he focused inward examining each part of his borrowed anatomy. Beyond broken bones and scraped skin, he could feel the lacerated liver pushing fluid into his abdomen, the broken rib that had grazed against his lung. These injuries were dire.

The cold he felt on the outside couldn't compare with that he felt on the inside when he realized he would not survive until Dean arrived. Human bodies could only survive so much even those currently housing the soul of an angel. And soon this mortal body would fail.

Castiel knew he wouldn't really die this way. Not like he had died before, blown completely away into dark oblivion. Only his human body would die, but unlike a demon, he couldn't exist within a dead vessel and without a body, he couldn't stay in this realm for very long. Unless he found another immediately, he'd be forced to leave and there were only two places he could go: heaven or hell. Heaven would never let him return and hell would welcome him much too eagerly. Memories of when he'd searched through the inferno for Dean haunted his mind and his body shook with a shudder that had nothing to do with cold or blood loss.

The broken angel coughed and felt blood trickle down his chin as he continued to shiver. More memories surfaced in his weary mind, memories of Dean. Most seemed to involve the hunter yelling at him. An image of his friend's angry face suddenly appeared quite clearly in his mind. He could even hear him shouting.

'You're going to let yourself get squashed to death by a couple slabs of frigging concrete? You're supposed to be an angel for Christ's sake!'

Cas felt an irrational urge to argue with him even though he knew it was just a figment of his imagination. Even after everything they'd been through, the man remained a constant exasperation. But one thing he had always admired about Dean Winchester was his pigheaded determination. And maybe that was something he needed at that moment.

Diving deep within himself, he fled down to his heart, his true heart, his grace. He gathered all his remaining power and with a strength he thought he'd lost, focused all of it into the most grievous of his internal injuries. Ever so slowly, the tissues regenerated themselves and the blood was replenished. The power was soon used up, but it was enough.

All of his energy now gone, Castiel's mind spun, drifting back into a darkness that reminded him of death.

**sssssss**

Castiel was woken by a familiar voice and a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to find the sun shinning high in the sky and Dean leaning over him with a relieved smile on his face. And for a moment, he couldn't decide which one was brighter.

"Hey, Cas."

"Hello, Dean," the angel replied his voice dry and weak.

Dean's smirk grew wider but concern was still obvious in the tightness around his eyes. "A building? Really, Cas? All of heaven and hell after you and a wall is what takes you down."

"Well, technically it was a wall brought down by the forces of heaven and hell," put in Sam. Castiel shifted his gaze and found the younger Winchester kneeling on his other side with his own reassuring smile. "He's just lucky he didn't get completely buried or he would have had to wait another four hours while we stole an excavator."

"I'll consider myself lucky then," was Castiel's hoarse reply, his dry throat making him cough.

Sam patted him on the shoulder. "Hold on, Cas. We'll have you free in a couple minutes."

Eyeing the surrounding rubble, Sam pulled free one of the metal supports and climbed up onto a pile of debris. Putting one end of the support under the slab that trapped the angel, he pressed down on the other end attempting to lever up the concrete.

Dean made himself ready situated behind Cas with his hands under the angel's arms. "Put your back into it, you pansy. We haven't got all day," he called to his brother.

Sam rolled his eyes, but didn't reply. Instead, he pushed down again using all his weight. With a harsh scrapping noise, the cement slowly began to rise. Dean didn't even wait for an inch of space to appear before he pulled Castiel free. Once Cas was clear, Sam let the wall go. It fell with a loud bang, cracking in two as it did so.

All three of them breathed a sigh of relief.

Jumping down, Sam knelt by Cas' legs to check the damage. "I don't think all of the weight was resting on you, so it shouldn't be too bad, but the left leg is definitely broken."

Sam gazed at Dean and raised his eyebrows. His brother returned the look and nodded. Castiel frowned as he glanced from one to the other, but before he could attempt to decipher the non-verbal communication, Sam grabbed the injured limb and pulled. Castiel's whole body jerked in reaction to the sudden burst of pain, but Dean's hands held him still. The world spun again and began to fade at the edges, but Castiel held on to the solid feeling of the hands on his shoulders.

"You still with us?"

When the world finally settled and he was able to focus on Dean's worried face, Cas managed to give a small nod.

"Jesus, Cas. You're a mess," said Dean gazing at the bloody injuries covering the angel. "Can't you use your mojo to fix you up?"

Castiel sighed and struggled to sit up only managing with the Winchesters' help. "Most of my 'mojo' was used up in the fight. I used what little I had left to heal my internal injuries, but I won't be able to heal the rest until my grace has had time to replenish."

"Don't worry. We'll fix you up," Dean reassured. "We happen to have a lot of experience in that area."

"So you're pretty much grounded then?" questioned Sam as the brothers carefully helped the angel to his feet. "No flying about until you're back to full power?"

"Yes." Castiel swayed slightly but they held him steady until the vertigo passed and he was able to balance himself on his good leg. He took a deep breath feeling relieved to simply be upright once more.

Dean smirked as the three slowly made their way to the Impala. "I guess that means you'll be stuck with us for a while then."

The corners of Castiel's lips turned up in a rare smile. "I can think of worse places to be."


	2. Birds of a Feather

**Title: **Birds of a Feather  
**Characters:** Sam, Dean, Castiel, Bobby  
**Rating:** G  
**Genre: **Humour  
**Word Count:** 535  
**Spoilers: **Set in season 5, but no specific spoilers for any of the episodes  
**Summary: **_Castiel does something that makes Sam wonder about angels and things with feathers._

**Birds of a Feather**

**By Daylight**

It was a sunny but cool afternoon when Sam strolled through Bobby's front door, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Hey, Bobby?"

"Yeah," replied the old hunter not bothering to look up from the books he was examining. Dean sat beside him both elbows on the table as scanned through his own leather bound volume.

"You've read through a lot of the lore on angels, haven't you?"

"Uh, huh," Bobby said still not looking up.

"In your reading, did you ever find anything that mentioned a..." Sam hesitated a moment searching for the right words. "…connection between angels and birds."

That got Bobby's attention. Both he and Dean looked up at Sam, eyebrows raised.

"Beside the obvious that is," Sam clarified.

Bobby and Dean exchanged glances in a way that clearly showed they were both questioning Sam's state of mind.

"I mean could there be a relationship between the two?" the younger Winchester brother continued on. "The wings might not just be a coincidence. God could have made birds with angels in mind or something."

"Well, unless you count some new age garbage about birds being people's guardian angels, I ain't seen nothing like that," answered Bobby.

"What brought this on?" asked Dean smirking at his brother. "You know you could always just ask Castiel."

"That's the thing," said Sam rubbing the side of his head.

"What thing?"

"Castiel."

"What about him?"

"He's on the roof."

"The roof? This roof?" exclaimed Dean pointing towards the ceiling. "What the hell is Castiel doing on the roof?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. Standing?"

Shaking his head, Dean didn't bother to ask any more questions. He went out to look for himself, Sam trailing behind him. Bobby, muttering something about 'birdbrains', opted to stay behind.

Castiel really was on the roof, as Dean soon found out, standing right at the peak and staring off into the distance. Every so often a breeze would catch the bottom of his trench coat and it would flutter around his body, like a pair of wings.

"Huh," said Dean as he gazed up at the angel. "What'd you know. He does look like a frigging giant bird."

Sam raised his hands. "That's what I was getting at."

"Hey, Cas. Cas!" Dean yelled.

The angel looked down at them, his titled head giving him even more of an avian appearance. Then suddenly, he wasn't on the roof anymore. He was standing two feet in front of them. Both of the Winchester brothers jumped.

Dean's fingers clenched into a fist but he resisted using it. "What were you doing up there?"

"Keeping watch," Cas replied calmly.

"Oh," said Dean. "Good. That's good."

"Was there something you wanted?" Castiel questioned in his usual serious stoic manner.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"Um…"

"Well…"

"I… Ah…"

"No."

Eyes narrowed, Castiel gazed from one to the other before disappearing and reappearing back on the roof in the exact same spot as before.

The brothers remained staring at him for a moment before going back inside.

As they entered the house, Dean declared, "Well, at least now I know what to get him for Christmas."

Sam frowned. "What's that?"

"Chocolate covered birdseed."


	3. Broken Pieces

**Title**: Broken Pieces  
**Characters**: Bobby, Castiel  
**Rating**: PG for a little swearing  
**Genre**: Missing Scene, Drama, Angst  
**Word Count**: 2451  
**Spoilers**: Spoilers up to 5x03  
**Summary**: Bobby had only been back home a week when Castiel turned up asking where Dean was. Of course, just because Bobby knew where Dean was didn't mean he was going to tell the angel.

**Broken Pieces**

**By Daylight**

Bobby stared up into the open cupboard and cursed.

The coffee mugs were on the second shelf.

Of course, the coffee mugs were on the second shelf. They'd always been there ever since he'd moved into the place. He could still clearly recall unpacking them all those years ago his wife quietly directing him on where everything should go: glasses on the first shelf, mugs on the second, junk they rarely used at the top. He'd had no problem with the set up at the time, but then he'd never imagined that thirty years and many demons later his wife would be dead and he'd be stuck in a wheelchair unable to reach a mug for his blasted cup of coffee.

He could have asked Ellen to fetch it for him, but he'd finally succeeded in chasing her away the day before. She and Jo had appeared mysteriously the day he was due to be released from hospital. Those dumb Winchester boys obviously couldn't keep their mouths shut. He tried telling the women he didn't need their help, but Ellen took charge and it's rather hard to say no when someone can just come up behind you and push you the way they want you to go. Jo didn't say much, just stood back with an awkward smile on her face and pity in her eyes.

After a sullen trip, they'd arrived at his home only to find Rufus standing in front of a newly constructed ramp leading up to the front door. Damn Winchesters. At least, Rufus knew how to treat a man with respect. He didn't say a word, merely nodded once at Bobby and left. The Harvelle women were much harder to get rid of. A lot like that occupational therapist who had visited him in the hospital. She'd show him a glossy catalogue with everything from grab bars to wheelchair lifts to commodes and tried to explain how he could still lead a virtually normal life. What the lady didn't realize was it had been a long time since Bobby had led a life that was anywhere near normal. Apparently, she was used to angry patients though and insisted on going over everything despite all the insults he threw at her.

The past week had been tortuous. Jo spilt her time between reading Bobby's books and restlessly exploring the junkyard. She avoided him for the most part and acted nervous whenever he saw her as if she was afraid she'd do the wrong thing. Ellen was the opposite, refusing to leave Bobby alone. She cajoled him out of bed every morning and insisted on cooking his meals and buying groceries. She even tried to reorganize his collections of stuff so he could manoeuvre more easily through the house. That is until he threatened bodily harm if she laid a single finger on any of his precious books. Having piles of books everywhere might make it difficult to get around, but it was a system he had perfected for years. Besides at this point, having most of his books at ground level was actually very convenient.

Either his wilful stubbornness in refusing every offer of help or Jo's restlessness must have become too much because the women finally left promising to check in on him after their next hunt. He was not looking forward to it even if it would help his mug problem.

Glancing up at the glasses, Bobby had to shrug off the temptation to skip the coffee and go straight to the whisky. Instead, he grabbed an old broom handle. The thing had recently become his trusty tool for reaching things that were now annoyingly too far away. Its blue paint was faded and chipped and one end had been sharpened to a point. It wasn't perfect. He really needed something that could actually grasp things, but it was what he had, so it would have to do. Aiming carefully, he slid it through the handle of a gray mug and slowly lifted.

The mug was inches from his fingers when it slipped off and loudly shattered into pieces on the floor.

"Damn it!"

"Bobby."

Jerking in his chair, the old hunter grabbed his wheels attempting to quickly spin around to face the intruder. Unfortunately in his haste, all he managed to do was ram his wheelchair into the table behind him. He cursed, but by then his brain had caught up with him and he recognized the voice, so he settled for a quick visual check instead.

Castiel stood right behind him looking the same as always, dishevelled suit and blank face.

That whisky was looking more tempting by the moment.

"I don't suppose you've come to tell me you've got your mojo back and are here to fix me?" Bobby asked not bothering to make another attempt to face the angel. Apparently, manners were not something they taught in heaven.

"I'm afraid not," replied Castiel.

"Didn't think so," said Bobby shoulders slumping even as he pretended not to care. "What do you want?"

Castiel walked in a graceful semi-circle until he was finally standing in front of Bobby. "I'm looking for Dean."

"Well, he's not here."

"I know. I was hoping you might tell me where he is."

Bobby's eyes narrowed. He did in fact know exactly where Dean was. For once, the brothers were actually checking in on a regular basis, and though he knew they were really just trying to check up on him, he had not intention of discouraging it. Of course, just because he knew where Dean was didn't mean he was going to tell the angel.

"Uh, huh," said Bobby still staring at Castiel. "Top of the fridge."

Cas glanced over at the appliance and gave a small frown. "Dean's on top of…"

The old hunter rolled his eyes. "No, you idjit. The dustpan. Fetch it down for me and clean up this mess, would you." He gestured to the broken mug on the floor.

Castiel's forehead remained furrowed, but he fetched the old dustpan and brush and kneeling down, swept up the bits of porcelain. It seemed a bit perverse having an all powerful angel of the lord doing chores for him, but at the same time Bobby found it satisfying to see the celestial being knocked down a peg or two, though admittedly, Castiel wasn't exactly all powerful anymore.

Bobby observed him carefully. All he really knew about this angel were various sketchy details from Dean and despite the fact Cas had rescued Dean and Sam on a few occasions, he didn't seem much less of an idiot than the rest of the apocalypse bent heavenly host. The angel seemed far from human, remaining distant and near emotionless. His eons spent following heaven's orders had obviously left him set in his ways and with little experience in making his own decisions. It had certainly taken him long enough to choose a side. The fact Castiel had finally helped the Winchesters was the only reason Bobby hadn't demanded the angel leave the moment he appeared.

Cas stood with the pan full of broken mug looking slightly lost.

"The garbage is under the sink. And you can leave the dustpan down there while you're at it."

The angel obeyed. "About Dean…" he began as he straightened up.

"Coffee first," interrupted Bobby. "Grab me a mug."

Cas handed him a white mug which said 'World's Biggest Bastard' on the side in big red letters, an old gift from Dean. Bobby narrowed his eyes again, but there was no hint of humour in the angel's face.

"Put the rest of the mugs down on the lower shelf while I pour myself some."

It was Castiel's turn to narrow his eyes, but he pushed aside the glasses on the first shelf and began placing the mugs beside them as Bobby poured the coffee and was finally able to take his first glorious sip.

"I believe you're trying to divert my intention," said Castiel.

"Maybe," Bobby said leaning back hand wrapped around his coffee as he watched the angel work. "Why are you looking for Dean anyway?"

"I need his help."

"God hunt not going so well?"

"I have a lead," said Castiel setting the last of the mugs on the bottom shelf.

Bobby took another long drink of his coffee. "And you need Dean for…?"

"It requires navigating certain aspects of the human world I'm not familiar with. The task will also be much easier with two." Cas hesitated a moment. "And I have no one else to ask."

"So Dean should just drop everything and help you on your little quest?" The hunter dumped his mug on the kitchen table letting it hit loudly against the wood surface. "You didn't seem very interested in helping him in his plans to defeat Lucifer."

"Dean insists on a futile course of action," Cas said with a tone of irritation. "It is not possible to defeat Lucifer without God's help."

"You'd be surprised by what that kid can do when he sets his mind to it."

Castiel glanced away to the side. "He does often seem to manage the impossible."

Bobby snorted. "Then maybe you should have listened to his ideas before blaming the boys for everything your lot started."

Castiel's eyes turned back to the hunter. There was very little change in the angel's features only a tightening of the jaw, but Bobby could suddenly feel the whole wrath of heaven directed at him through Castiel's eyes. "They're not 'my lot' anymore. Besides you yourself don't appear to be doing anything to help Dean."

Bobby didn't so much as flinch from the angel's gaze. Instead, he wheeled right up to the angel and matched his furious stare with one of his own. Common sense only just stopped him from grabbing the trench coat and trying to pull Cas down to his level. "In case you've forgotten, I'm stuck in this fucking chair!"

"And that's preventing you from aiding them? I did not know all your wisdom lay in your legs."

"You don't understand! I'm not good for anything but demon bait like this," Bobby yelled. "The frigging apocalypse is on us and all I can do is answer questions over the phone!"

Breathing heavily, Bobby spun away from the angel and rolled towards the front door roughly yanking it open. He only went as far as the porch stopping and staring out over the stacks of rusting cars that covered the salvage yard. It was a gray, cloudy day, but the air was fresh and light from a recent rain. He breathed it in deeply suddenly realizing this was the first time he'd been out of the house since he'd gotten out of the hospital. Only his years as a hunter let him hear the near silent footsteps of Castiel as he came out to stand beside him.

"I used to be able to fend off any nasty creature I came across," Bobby began not bothering to look over at the angel. "I used to be able to save people with my own two hands. I used to be able to run out the door at a moment's notice and pull those boys out of whatever ridiculous danger they got themselves into." His knuckles turned white as he clutched tightly to the wheels of his chair. "They're the only family I have and I'm trapped here."

There was a moment of silence in which Bobby convinced himself the sting in his eyes was from the cool fall breeze. Then the angel began to speak in his horse monotone his gaze also turned towards the world in front of them.

"I used to be able to fight off hordes of hell spawn with little effort. I used to be able to call upon heaven to do my merest thought. I used to be able to travel through time, erase memories, heal the injured…"

"Yeah, well, try being human," Bobby muttered but the bite was out of his voice.

"I used to have a family, a home," Cas added in a whisper.

_'And I lost everything..._' The words echoed through Bobby's head. He'd been too busy dealing with other issues at the time, but now as he gazed over at the angel, he was taken back by the look in Castiel' blue eyes. Maybe he had to re-evaluate his opinion of the angel, because the expression on his face was much too human. It was a heartbreaking expression he'd occasionally seen on Dean, a look of broken despair as if he was just trying to make it through each day without falling apart. The angel's damn deranged quest for God was probably the only thing holding him together. A familiar protective urge surged up in him, but he tried to shake it off. What he really didn't need right now was another foundling to worry over.

"Hey, Feathers. Mind doing me a favour?"

Castiel titled his head towards him. The broken look was thankfully gone replaced by one of curiosity.

"Would you mind keeping an eye on the boys for me? Keep them out of trouble. Both Dean and Sam."

"I'll do my best." Cas' nose wrinkled. "However, I've noticed they have an uncanny ability to find trouble no matter what anyone does."

"You got that right. Just help them out and try not to let them do anything too stupid."

"I will. I promise."

Bobby stared narrowly into the angel's eyes for a minute before he nodded and said, "Dean's in Weatherly, Pennsylvania, the Windmill Motel, room 8."

"Thank you."

Bobby's eyebrows rose. It seemed as if the angel was finally beginning to learn a few manners. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

Castiel remained a moment observing the hunter with an irritatingly calm expression, before saying, "Have you considered you may not be quite as trapped as you think you are?"

Face scrunching up, Bobby opened his mouth to demand what he meant by that, but with a fluttering and a slight breeze, the angel was gone. Blasted birdbrain. So much for manners. Obviously being cut off from heaven didn't stop Castiel from trying to remain annoyingly enigmatic.

Bobby sighed. He didn't like it, but maybe, just maybe, Cas had a point. He gazed out at the piles of broken metal. Even if he couldn't get himself out of the damn chair, the least he could do was get out of the house. It was well past time he started converting one of his trucks for hands only driving. Designs already forming in his head, he wheeled down the ramp and sailed off into the salvage yard.


	4. Sunshine

**Title: **Sunshine  
**Characters:** Dean, Castiel  
**Rating:** G  
**Genre: **Fluff  
**Word Count:** 386  
**Spoilers: **Set in season 5, but no specific spoilers for any of the episodes  
**Summary: ** A moment in the sun.

**Sunshine**

**By Daylight**

Dean was lying on the grass watching the sunshine through his eyelids. For once, in this small moment, he was content. He was happy to just stay there listening to the distant sound of children playing and the soft sound of his brother snoring beside him. And forget everything else.

Taking a deep breath, he let his muscles relax sinking deeper into the ground.

Unfortunately, his attempt at relaxation was disturbed when a shadow fell over him. Tensing, he opened his eyes to find the familiar shape of Castiel blocking his light. The rebel angel formed a dark silhouette against the sun, an oddly bright halo glowing around him. He was looking down at them curiously, head cocked to the side.

Dean groaned.

"Are you and Sam alright?" Cas inquired.

"We were fine until you got here," replied Dean glancing over at his brother who remained ignorantly dozing.

"I have important information for you."

"No."

Castiel pulled back his forehead furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"I said 'no'."

"But it's vital that…"

"It can wait," Dean insisted vehemently. "We've got more important things to do."

"More important than the apocalypse?"

"Yes!"

Castiel's head slowly tilted to the other side. "Is this more of that human stuff?"

"Exactly," declared Dean. "Humans don't just need food and sleep. We need breaks, time out and sunshine, lots of sunshine."

With a deep breath, Dean closed his eyes hoping Cas would just fly away once more. And as he waited, the shadow did disappear from his face, but then he heard the distinct sound of someone lying down on the grass beside him. Eyes suddenly wide open, he glanced to his right to see Castiel on his back on the grass his hands laced behind his head.

"Cas? Wha…"

Castiel gave a slight shrug as he continued to stare straight at the sun in his disturbingly non-blinking way. "Angels need sunshine too," he said.

Dean huffed in disbelief and shook his head before breaking into a grin. Closing his eyes once more, he let himself sink back into the grass. On his left, his brother snored. On his right, an angel let his blue eyes absorb the light of the sun.


	5. Breakfast at Bobby

**Title**: Breakfast at Bobby's  
**Characters**: Sam, Dean, Castiel, Bobby  
**Rating**: G  
**Genre**: fluff with a smidgen of angst  
**Word Count**: 2904  
**Spoilers**: Up to 5x04  
**Summary**: Morning, sunlight, bare feet, pyjamas, old house, memories, coffee, breakfast, angel, hunter, brothers, family.

**Breakfast at Bobby's**

**By Daylight**

The sheets were clean, musty but clean which was a rare luxury. Even the mustiness was welcome causing Sam to dig deeper into his pillow. It was a familiar mustiness part of that which permeated all of Bobby's home, a smell of dust and wood and old books occasionally broken by the tang of gasoline and metal from the salvage yard outside. It was a contrast to the usual smells he woke to. The motels they frequented tended to have a smell which was a combination of mildew, industrial cleaners, rotting food and urine, each motel with its own particular mix. It was just another part of life he'd long gotten used to. But here the smells brought back memories of childhood explorations through a maze of twisted wrecks and adult explorations through the brittle pages of leather bound books, memories that were accompanied by feelings of peace and safety. Feelings that were so rare these days it wasn't surprising he felt like he'd just had his first decent sleep in months.

Sam turned over indulging in the softness of the mattress, another luxury, and squinted over at the other bed in the small room. Except for a crumpled pile of sheets and quilts, it was empty. He sat up rubbing his eyes taking in the dim morning light that crept through the dirty window pane. The room was like most in the house. Between the dusty paintings and old fashioned light fixtures, the walls were covered in faded wallpaper with a pattern of azure flowers on forest green. The dark, panelled floor had a frayed oriental rug, the wood furnishings were chipped and scratched, and every corner was crammed with books. Those that didn't fit in the overflowing bookshelves were piled on top the dresser and on the floor.

Only two things separated this room from the rest of the house. First instead of newspaper clippings and drawings of ancient symbols pinned to the few visible bits of wall, there were photos of Sam and Dean as kids. Second was the closet. Instead of containing occult paraphernalia or even more books, it held boxes of old clothes, randomly collected memorabilia and even some well loved toys. All stuff the Winchesters couldn't take with them as they drove across the country. The brothers might only visit Bobby a few times each year, but this room for all intents and purposes was theirs.

Yawning, Sam pulled back the covers and swung his legs out of bed. His bare feet hit against the duffle bag dumped at the side before resting on the cold floor. It was a cool morning but the warmth of sleep still clung to him. He lurched upward and stumbled towards the door. It squeaked slightly as it opened. The hallway beyond was covered in dark wood panelling matching the floors. Sunlight through the stained glass window at the end gave it an odd orange glow. Sam made his way across to the bathroom. Once done there, he decided not to bother getting dressed and headed downstairs in search of breakfast still in his gray T-shirt and dark pyjamas pants. The steps made familiar creaking noises under his bare feet and he could almost hear the echo of children tumbling down them.

A loud thud and banging greeted him before the kitchen was even in sight. It was accompanied by muttered curses. Passing through the cluttered library and into the green and white kitchen, Sam found his brother also still dressed in sleepwear, black T-shirt and navy plaid pants, and currently doing battle with the coffee maker.

"Is it possessed?" Sam asked eyebrow raised.

Dean turned to him with a grimace. "Wouldn't surprise me," he replied giving it another shake.

Observing Dean carefully, Sam was pleased to note that despite being up early and being at war with a kitchen appliance, his sleep rumpled brother looked well rested and relaxed. Sleeping in a familiar bed obviously did wonders. He caught Dean looking him over with the exact same scrutinizing gaze and nodding to himself. Sam guessed he passed inspection.

"Maybe you should try to keep it down. You don't want to wake Bobby."

"Well, if he does wake up, maybe he can tell me how this damn demented thing is supposed to work." Dean brought his fist down one more time and it suddenly began making happy humming and gurgling noises. "Ah, ha!" he cried and turned to Sam with a self-satisfied smirk. "Knew I could fix it."

"Sure," Sam said with a sarcastic nod, but he grinned too. He was glad to see a smile on Dean's face that for once actually reached his eyes.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Dean fetched down some mugs while Sam padded over to the front door and pulled it open. Outside, the piles of wrecked cars stood silent, a morning mist still clinging to the ground in the distance. The sun had barely made it over the horizon shinning dimly through some thin clouds. Sam took a deep breath of the cool fresh air.

"Do you mind, Sasquatch?" Dean called out. "Some of us don't have big hairy feet like you do and are freezing our toes off."

Sam sighed and gave his brother an indulgent smile as he shut the door. Wandering back towards him, he sat down at the table smacking the wood surface with the palm of his hand. "Hand over the coffee then, Tiny."

"Just for that you get Bobby's special mug," said Dean handing him his coffee in a white mug which said 'World's Biggest Bastard' in red lettering.

Sam snorted, but decided he'd rather drink the coffee than bother retaliating. He took a sip absently noting the mug already contained the exact amount of cream and sugar he preferred. Leaning against the kitchen counter, Dean was drinking what Sam knew for certain to be coffee that was black and strong as humanly possible. Suddenly, Dean glanced up and smiled at something behind Sam. The younger brother looked over his shoulder and was surprised to see Castiel standing there. He'd forgotten the angel had stayed the night. He'd even passed right by him asleep on the deep red couch in the library without noticing.

"Good morning," Cas stated formally.

"Morning," the brothers chorused in unison.

Technically, angels shouldn't need sleep, but since Castiel had rebelled and been cut off from heaven's power, they'd found that if Cas was injured badly or overused his powers, his body needed rest and recuperation just as if he were human. And unfortunately, since Cas still wasn't used to his new limitations, he tended to overdo things fairly often. At that point, it was best to lead him over to a bed or couch before he keeled over, though recently Castiel seemed to be developing a fondness for sleeping in the back of the Impala.

Yesterday had been a rare occasion. Not only had Castiel slept, but Dean had also somehow convinced the angel to change out of his normal suit and into some of Dean's old clothes. It was a contrast to his normal appearance making Cas appear smaller and much more human. The white T-shirt was worn and dingy and the gray sweatpants were too long, the frayed ends dragging behind his heels. That combined with the dark hair spiking up at odd angles forced Sam to hide a smile in his cup of coffee. Castiel's expression and posture, of course, continued to belie his physical appearance. His stance remained stiff and his blue-eyed stare intense in a way that might very well have freaked out a normal human being, but to Sam it was becoming comfortingly familiar.

The angel gracefully slid into a chair beside the younger Winchester.

"Hey, Cas," said Dean with a grin. "How 'bout some coffee?"

Castiel frowned at him.

Sam shook his head. "You really have to stop trying to corrupt him."

"Dude, it's just coffee."

"Fine," replied Sam holding up his hands. "But don't blame me if he develops a caffeine addiction."

The angel glanced from one brother to the other.

"It's not that addictive," Dean insisted handing him a mug. "Go on. Try some. I dare you."

Picking it up, Cas took a tentative sip his forehead furrowing once more. "It's not unpleasant," he finally concluded.

Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam shook his head again. The angel had an almost worryingly tendency to do whatever Dean said, at least when it came to human experiences. Sam would have to do his best to counter that. Standing up, he grabbed the sugar and cream from the counter and returned to put a healthy helping of both in Castiel's coffee.

"Dude, I'll stop trying to corrupt Cas if you stop trying to turn him into a pansy."

Ignoring Dean, Sam watched as Cas retried the coffee. The angel closed his eyes for a moment letting out a pleased 'mmm'.

Both brothers wore matching grins.

"You better not be letting that angel of yours drink all my coffee," said Bobby as he wheeled into the room.

Sam automatically tucked his feet out of the way as the old hunter went past. It wasn't that Bobby couldn't easily manoeuvre around them, he just seemed to be of the opinion that if you were stupid enough to leave your toes in his way, you deserved to have them run over.

There must be something in the air that morning Sam decided as he noted even Bobby remained barefoot wearing gray sweatpants under an old red plaid shirt, though, of course, the ever present trucker's cap still remained on his head. Sam found himself fighting another grin as he recalled a childhood debate with his brother over whether Bobby slept with the hat on. It had ended in a midnight excursion and an embarrassing capture, but it was a fond memory.

"We were just introducing Cas to another one of life's iniquities," explained Dean as he handed the old hunter a steaming mug.

"Uh huh," replied Bobby before taking a long draught of the coffee. He let out a long satisfied sigh. "I don't suppose one of you yahoos bothered to fetch the paper."

Both Sam and Dean quickly avoided his gaze neither wanting to be the one who had to leave the warm kitchen and brave the long cold walk down the driveway, but Castiel's eyes instead grew distant. The angel held his hand out over the center of the table and with a flash of light, a folded newspaper suddenly appeared.

"Show-off," Dean muttered.

Grunting in thanks, Bobby grabbed the paper and unfolded it scanning the headlines. Sam's eyes slid over to the paper but he forced them back before he actually focused on the print. He wasn't ready for the outside world to intrude. In another hour, they'd be back in the thick of research, back to blood and death, guilt and regret, the devil and the apocalypse. But now, he just wanted to drink his coffee.

Bobby seemed to be of the same mind tossing the paper away after a few minutes and heading for the fridge. "You boys up for eggs and sausage for breakfast."

"Always," exclaimed Dean.

But Sam's forehead furrowed. "Are you sure you don't want us to…"

Bobby silenced him with a look. "You're not about to suggest that one of you cook?"

"Well…" Sam rubbed the back of his head.

"When was the last time either of you actually cooked something?"

Sam glanced at Dean who met his gaze with a shrug.

"I recall Dean used to make a mean bowl of spaghettios," Sam finally volunteered.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "He can do the toast." Turning around to grab the needed ingredients from the fridge, he called over his shoulder, "Hey, Feathers. You eating?"

Castiel looked up from where he'd been staring at his coffee. His elbows were leaning on the table top, both hands wrapped around his mug, seemingly enjoying the warmth more than the actual drinking.

"I do not require sustenance."

"You sure?" countered Dean eyeing the angel.

Sam had to agree with his brother. If Cas couldn't tell when he needed to sleep, he doubted the angel would even know if he was hungry.

Cas shrugged which was an oddly human gesture for him.

"Well, I'd rather not have you just sitting there staring at us. So, you're eating," Bobby declared as he set up the frying pan.

Castiel opened his mouth to protest but Sam stopped him putting a hand on his arm. "Don't bother. You can't say no when Bobby offers you food."

"Yeah," added Dean as he helped himself to some more coffee. "It's one of the rules."

"Rules?"

"The rules you have to obey if you want to stay at Bobby's," Sam explained with a grin.

Gulping down more caffeine, Dean nodded. "Like no climbing the stacked cars."

"No messing up the order of Bobby's books."

"No joyriding in cars Bobby's fixing up."

"No stealing Bobby's hat."

Castiel frowned. "Why would I want to do any of that?"

"Those rules," said Bobby his voice rising over the sizzling frying pan, "are just for idiotic little Winchester boys who can't seem to stay out of trouble."

Both Sam and Dean stared sheepishly at the ground but their lips twitched with smothered laughter.

"I will do my best not to emulate them," Castiel said.

"Too late, Cas," said Sam leaning forward. "I think Dean's already been a pretty bad influence on you."

"Hey," protested Dean putting down his mug. "What do you mean bad?"

Ignoring his brother, Sam continued. "Considering all the trouble you've been getting into recently. I think you're well on your way to becoming a Winchester."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Just what I need, another one."

Castiel gave them a puzzled look as if he couldn't decide whether or not this was a good thing. It caused both Sam and Dean to finally break into laughter.

The rest of the breakfast preparation continued in silence. While Bobby finished cooking the food, Dean managed to make some edible toast, Castiel remembered he was supposed to drink his coffee, and Sam brought out the cutlery and plates. Savoury smells spread throughout the kitchen. Once all the plates were full, they settled around the table. Dean began digging in the moment his butt hit his seat. In contrast, Cas carefully examined his food from every angle before taking small bites. Bobby brought out the newspaper again paying more attention to it then the food he was eating. Sam was all ready to dig in too when one of the headlines on the paper caught his eye, his brain automatically reading it before he could stop.

1066 Die in Earthquake

And Sam felt his stomach sink, his appetite leaving him. It was just an earthquake he told himself. Earthquakes happened naturally all the time. There was no reason it had anything to do with Lucifer or the apocalypse. But even as he told himself that, he could feel the weight of those 1066 souls on his conscience. And suddenly, the air went from cool to icy, the smells turned stifling, the sunlight became too dim, and the house was just old and dirty instead of full of memories. Sam stared at the lumps of grease and fat on his plate unable to find the motivation to pick up his fork.

"Hey."

Looking up, Sam found Dean snapping his fingers at him from across the table. Concern shone from his eyes though he didn't let it show on the rest of his face.

"Stop pouting princess. Your food's getting cold."

The younger Winchester sighed. "I'm not pouting."

"Are too," countered Dean. "New rule: No moping at breakfast."

"You can't make rules. Only Bobby can make rules."

Dean turned to the old hunter. "Bobby?"

"No moping at breakfast," repeated Bobby not bothering to look up from his newspaper.

Turning back to Sam, Dean gave a large smirk. "There you go."

Sam snorted shaking his head at his brother.

When Sam's expression didn't improve, Dean waved his fork at the angel. "Cas, hit Sam on the back of the head for me."

Castiel leaned back glancing from one brother to the other with a look of confusion. "Why?"

"It'll stop his moping."

"That is unlikely."

"It's a proven technique."

"I'm not hitting Sam."

"Come on. It's too far for me to reach and he needs a good slap."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

As the debate went on, Sam glanced over at Bobby who met his gaze with a look of exasperation, but Sam could see the grin at the corner of his mouth and in his eyes, and soon found he was unable to stop himself grinning too. Dean seemed too intent on the conversation to really notice, but Sam thought he caught the hint of a sly smirk on his brother's face.

Sam took a deep breath and looked around. The sun had reached the height of the windows and a sunbeam lit the faded green paint on the kitchen walls. Piles of books crept in at the corners from the overflowing library and beneath the smells of sausages and coffee, the ever present mustiness of Bobby's home still lingered. So while Dean and Cas continued to argue and Bobby turned to another page of his paper, Sam picked up his fork and began to eat.


	6. Gryphons, Bazookas and Turtles

**Title**: Gryphons, Bazookas and Turtles  
**Characters**: Dean, Castiel, Sam  
**Rating**: PG for blood and swearing  
**Genre**: Weird combination of humour, action/adventure and drama  
**Word Count**: 1943  
**Spoilers**: Up to 5x04  
**Summary**: Sam, Dean and Castiel get stuck down in the sewers of New York City and find absolutely no turtles.

**Gryphons, Bazookas and Turtles**

**By Daylight**

Three bloody figures dashed through a door into a dark room. When the last had made it through, they slammed the door shut bracing their shoulders against it. As soon as they had, something large and shrieking hit the other side. The entire room shook, the walls and floor creaking and cracking. The trio were almost thrown back, but they regained their footing and braced themselves once more. The pounding came again and again mixed with more shrieking and the piercing sound of something sharp scratching and scrapping. It slammed against the door until they thought the whole structure would come down, but it finally stopped and the inhuman screeching trailed off into the distance accompanied by the sound of things smashing and shattering.

The three waited until they were sure it had moved on before sighing in relief. They slid down until they were seated shoulder to shoulder their backs against the door, all breathing heavily. Eventually, one of them, the last to make it through the door, looked up, finally taking in their surroundings.

"Where the hell are we?" asked Dean.

Blinking, Sam raised his head, absentmindedly wiping away a small trail of blood from his forehead. "Umm…" He shone his flashlight across the depths of the room. It was small and dusty with cement walls and contained nothing but a scattering of garbage on the floor and a single broken lightbulb on the ceiling. "Some sort of storage room maybe."

Dean winced as he put pressure on a particularly deep cut on his right arm.

"In other words, a dead end. Great. Just great."

"We do have another way out," Sam replied nodding his head to the man seated between them.

"Easy for you to say." Dean scowled. "Cas, you up for a little flying? I think we'd better get out of here before that thing decides to give breaking the door down another try."

"I need a few minutes," replied the angel.

Frowning, Dean raised his flashlight to get a better look at Castiel. The angel was leaning forward, his face pale, his eyes pinched tightly closed. Dean swallowed convulsively when he saw the cause. There were five deep, red gouges across the angel's chest.

"Shit."

The brothers exchanged alarmed looks over Cas' head, but another glance at the wounds revealed that they were already closing. The slashes which were so deep they could see glimpses of bone were slowly but visibly knitting together. Thank God for miraculous angel healing. Sam and Dean were lucky to have received only comparatively shallow scratches and bruises from being tossed around. If they'd gotten wounds like that, they'd be busy bleeding their life out all over the floor. Still, it didn't look as if angel healing made the pain any less.

"Are you going to be alright?" Sam asked.

"Yes," Castiel gritted out through his clenched teeth.

Dean grimaced, but there wasn't anything he could actually do so he leant his head back and settled in to wait. Of course, he wasn't one to stay silent for long.

"Dude, that was a gryphon."

Sam nodded. "I noticed."

"A frigging gryphon."

"Uh huh."

"In New York."

"Yup."

"In the sewers!" Dean rubbed the back of his head. "I mean rats, sure. Alligators, maybe, but a gryphon?"

Shoulders slumped wearily, Sam sighed. "Someone probably summoned it here."

"And have I mentioned the fact that there was absolutely no sign of the Colt?"

Sam bristled. "I didn't guarantee that it'd be here. All we knew was there was a magical creature in the sewers guarding something. It could have very well been the Colt."

"Well, it wasn't. It was just a useless pile of gold and jewels." Dean smacked a hand against his forehead. "And I can't believe I just called gold useless." He glanced back at the door a thoughtful expression on his face.

"No, Dean," intoned Sam.

"What?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "We are not going back for the treasure."

"It was just a thought," Dean replied with a shrug.

"And what were you planning to do with the gryphon? Pull its tail again?"

"I was trying to distract it before it ate Cas for dinner!"

"For which I am very grateful," Castiel put in, still looking pale but at least in less pain.

"You're welcome," said Dean smiling smugly.

Sam shook his head. "But did you really need to keep taunting it and calling it a big ugly kitty?"

"Well, maybe if we'd been better prepared."

"How was I supposed to know there'd be a gryphon down here? They're usually only found in Asia."

"I know and they're usually supposed to be the size of wolves not the size of elephants!" Dean cried. "If we'd known, we could have brought better weapons. Cas could have gotten a bigger sword. I could have had a bazooka."

"For the last time, we are not getting a bazooka!" Sam yelled hands raised.

"What's a bazooka?" asked Cas looking from one to the other.

"A really cool, really big gun," explained Dean. "Which would have made fighting the gryphon a hell of a lot easier."

"How exactly would you even get your hands on one?"

"I've got a few contacts."

"And we'd hide it where?" Sam questioned eyebrows raised. "It wouldn't exactly fit in the trunk of the impala."

"We'd store it somewhere and only bring it out for special occasions," Dean insisted.

Sam began to bang the back of his head against the door.

Ignoring his brother, Dean turned his attention back to Castiel. "How are you doing?"

"Better," stated the angel. His clothes remained torn and bloody, but the gashes had become merely dark red streaks and his face was back to its normal stoic expression having lost the worn lines of pain.

"Great. How 'bout getting us out of here?"

Cas frowned. "I still require a little more time to recover."

"Could you hurry it up? I think there might be rats in here," Dean said shinning his flashlight into the dark shadowed corners of the room.

"Give him a break, Dean," Sam spoke rubbing tiredly at his face. "He's exhausted, just like us. We've been chasing every single possible lead on the Colt for months without any breaks."

"Yeah well, it's kind of important."

"We're not going to be able to make much use of it if we're dead on our feet."

The brothers glared at each other until Dean finally closed his eyes and looked away with a sigh.

"Don't think I don't know the real reason you dragged us down into these sewers," he said.

Sam frowned. "What's that?"

"Come on, there's nothing I don't know about you. You've loved them ever since you were a little kid. Admit it. You jumped at the chance to come down here and see for yourself."

"See what?"

"I bet you were even hoping we might run into them."

"Dean…"

The older Winchester leaned over towards Cas and said in a fake whisper, "Did you know that when Sam was young he wanted to be a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle?"

The angel turned towards the younger brother, his head titled, his expression one of completely serious curiosity and confusion.

Sam huffed. "Dean!"

Dean smirked. "You should have seen him running around with his little, homemade purple mask fighting off evil foot soldiers with a broom handle."

"I will never understand this obsession with turtles," said Castiel.

"It's not me, just him," Dean insisted. "He wanted to be Donatello 'cause he's the geeky one."

The look on Sam's face clearly indicated he was busy debating different ways of killing his brother.

"I, of course, would be Leonardo," announced Dean with a grin. "The cool one."

Sam snorted. "More like Michelangelo."

"No way. He's a goof."

"Exactly."

Dean scowled.

"I suppose that would make Cas Raph…" Sam cut off when he saw Dean shake his head. He nodded in understanding as the two silently decided it was probably better not to connect Cas to a character who just happened to share the same name as the archangel who killed him.

Castiel narrowed his eyes as he glanced at the two of them.

"He could be Splinter," Dean suggested.

"No. Bobby's Splinter. Casey Jones?"

"Nowhere near hot-headed enough," said Dean shaking his head. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "I've got it! Our friend who helps us out and brings us information from the world above…"

Sam's eyes grew wide.

"April O'Neil," the brothers cried in unison and immediately fell apart laughing.

The angel frowned. "Dean? Sam?"

But the brothers were too busy bent over laughing, completely forgetting the ache of their injuries as tears started to stream down their faces.

"Dean!" Cas tried again.

"What?" Dean managed to get out, his lips still twitching and his chest jumping with suppressed laughter.

"Are you alright?"

"Just great, April," said Dean and fell over laughing once more.

Forehead furrowed, Castiel turned to Sam. "I fear your brother might be suffering from some sort of damage to his brain."

"And you only just figured that out," said Sam between laughs.

"Hey," cried Dean, but he was too busy laughing to retaliate.

It was unclear how long they would have remained rolling around on the floor if there hadn't been a sudden shriek and crash against the other side of the door announcing the return of the gryphon. Dean swore as the three of them scrambled to their feet bracing the door once more.

"Are you ready, Cas? Because I don't think we can wait any longer," said Dean hearing the sounds of metal bending as the door hinges began to give in from the repeated attacks.

"I'm ready," announced the angel raising his hands.

"Wait," interrupted Sam. "Take us to Bobby's."

"What? No," exclaimed Dean. "We are not leaving my car alone in New York City."

"Dean, we are all exhausted and we need patching up. We're going to Bobby's. The car will survive without us for a day or two."

Castiel nodded in agreement.

"Fine," Dean grumbled.

Then there was no more time for discussion as the door began to bend inward. Castiel placed his fingers on there foreheads and they were gone. The sudden dizzying feeling of weightlessness and acceleration soon passed and the sight of Bobby's library appeared before them. Unfortunately, Cas still wasn't completely recovered and arrived feeling faint and light-headed from the effort. Sam grabbed the wobbly angel attempting to stop him from falling over only to realize his own balance was off from the dizzying journey. Dean, who was more used to angel flights, was steady but when he tried to help the angel, he suddenly found himself being pulled to the ground by the combined weight of both Castiel and Sam.

All three of them landed on the floor with a loud crash. They lay there a moment breathing heavily before Sam and Dean glanced at each other and immediately started cracking up once more.

Bobby wheeled into the room, alarmed expression on his face and shotgun tucked under one arm, only to find his three friends blood splattered and lying on the floor, two of them quivering with laughter.

"Are you boys alright?" he asked in confusion.

Sam and Dean were too busy laughing but Castiel slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows and met Bobby's gaze. "I'm fine," he said in his usual hoarse tone. "But I'm afraid Sam and Dean have been rendered insane."

The brothers, of course, found this hilarious and began laughing even harder.

Bobby merely shook his head and rolled out of the room to fetch the first aid kit.


	7. Time for Care and Time for Sleep

**Title**: Time for Care and Time for Sleep  
**Characters**: Dean, Sam, Castiel  
**Rating**: PG for blood and swearing  
**Genre**: Hurt/Comfort  
**Word Count**: 2384  
**Spoilers**: Up to 5x04  
**Summary**: Castiel interrupts Dean's sleep but he has a very good reason.

**Time for Care and Time for Sleep**

**By Daylight**

The motel room had pea soup green walls and mud brown carpets. One of the lamps was missing, the chairs were mismatched and the table tilted at an odd angle as if two of the legs were shorter than the others. It also smelt significantly of rotting fruit, but Dean didn't notice any of that. Dean didn't notice the cracks in the ceiling, the odd yellowish stains, or the cockroaches crawling in the corners. All Dean saw when he opened the door were the beds.

He made straight for the closest one, dumping his duffle and falling face first into the pillow. The mattress was hard, the covers were stiff and starchy, and the sheets smelt of mildew, but he didn't care. He was too busy revelling in the blissful sensation of being able to lie down and no longer carry his heavy weight on his tired feet.

Dimly he heard the sound of Sam entering, shutting the door and letting his own bag fall to the floor. Footsteps made their way passed him and the other bed creaked as Sam sat down. The younger Winchester let out a long tired sigh. Dean wanted to make a comment about how wimpy and girly it sounded, but all he managed was a grunt. Soon, he felt himself drifting off, sensations dimming as he passed into sleep, but a noise suddenly brought him back to consciousness or at least it tired to.

"Dean, your phone's ringing."

"No, it isn't," Dean mumbled into his pillow even as the cell continued to play its little tune.

"Do you want me to answer it?"

"No."

"It might be important," Sam pointed out already getting up and reaching for the pocket of the coat Dean was still wearing.

Dean slapped his brother's hand away. "Paws off," he grumbled, but it was too late. He was awake now and he got the feeling neither the phone nor his brother was going to leave him alone any time soon. So letting out his own sigh, he rolled over and pulled out the cell. "What?" he growled into it.

"Dean," greeted the voice of Castiel.

The elder Winchester groaned. Cas' voice was the last he wanted to hear. The angel might be his friend, but he never actually called with anything good. It was always demon this and apocalypse that. Just for once he'd like for Cas to call him up to invite him out for drinks or down to a strip club or something. Not that that was very likely considering the angel's general attitude to such things, but he could still dream.

"I need your help. Where are you?"

It seemed he would have to keep dreaming.

"No. No. No. No," Dean repeated hoping that would help it sink in.

"Dean…"

He was really getting irritated by the way people kept saying his name like that. Glancing over at his brother, he saw Sam shrug indicating the decision was up to him, but he could tell from Sam's slumped posture and worn out expression that he wasn't ready for another hunt so soon either.

"No. We're not up for God hunting or demon hunting or Colt hunting right now," Dean declared. "It's sleep time, Cas. Call me in 24 hours and I might consider it, but no sooner."

"This doesn't concern that and I don't believe it can wait."

"Then what is it?"

"I… I need your help."

There was a catch in the angel's voice, a rare show of emotion, something that made Dean's guts twist and every one of his instincts tell him to sit up and take notice. They fought against his desire for peace and sleep, and finally won. Moaning, he rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Myrtle Creek, Oregon, the Slumberville Motel, room 11."

The line was immediately disconnected. Dean put the phone away and threw an arm over his face already regretting his decision. There was a silent pause, just long enough for Dean to begin wondering why Cas hadn't appeared instantly like he usually did, before he heard the announcing flutter of wings. He stayed lying there almost drifting back into sleep and hoping vainly that he might somehow be able to help from the comfort of bed when he heard two things that spiked enough adrenaline to bring him instantly to his feet.

The first was his brother swearing in a way that set all of Dean's nerves on edge.

"Shit…"

The second was what Cas said in response.

"It won't stop bleeding."

Dean was standing before he'd even fully processed what the angel had said. Castiel stood stiffly at the far end of the room. The normally unchanging appearance of the angel was marred by a large trail of blood coming from his shoulder and covering the entire right side of his trench coat. The expression on his pale face was one of mild concern mixed with some confusion and possibly even a little fear. It seemed very inconsistent with the enormity of his injury, but for Cas showing that much emotion was the equivalent of full on panic.

"Shit," said Dean mimicking his brother.

Sam was ahead of him already reaching the angel and yanking him over to the end of his bed. He removed the bloody trench coat and forced Cas to sit down. Years spent patching each other up after hunts gone wrong set in and they went into automatic mode. Dean grabbed a towel from the bathroom as Sam quickly removed Cas' jacket, tie and shirt. Castiel offered no resistance or help, letting himself be manipulated and watching with a slightly perplexed expression which would have been funny if things hadn't been so dire.

"Crap," said Dean swearing again when he finally got a good look at the large hole in Cas' shoulder.

"It goes all the way through," Sam informed him as he pulled out the first aid kit.

Dean shook his head resisting the urge to swear a third time as he glanced at Cas' back and saw the exit wound he'd missed before. Taking the towel, he pressed it firmly against both of the sluggishly leaking holes. Cas winced and tried to flinch away, but the brothers held him still. The reaction surprised Dean. Somewhere along the line, he'd gotten the impression that angels didn't actually feel pain. He could clearly recall Castiel not even blinking when he'd stabbed him the day they'd first met. Obviously from Cas' response, it wasn't true. He could now recognize the lines of pain around Cas' eyes and he really didn't like seeing them there.

While Dean kept pressure on the wounds, Sam went over to the sink and filled an old plastic bottle with water. He brought it back and handed it to the angel. "Here. You need to replace the fluids you lost."

Cas stared at it presumably not used to the necessity of filling such a human need, but after a moment, he obediently drank. Sam dug through the first aid kit and pulled out a bottle of pills. Shaking two into the palm of his hand, he offered them to Castiel. Cas just looked at them in confusing.

"They're painkillers," Sam explained.

An image flashed through Dean's mind of Castiel popping pills with a half-mad grin on his face and a broken look in his eyes, and he found himself fighting the urge to knock the pills out of Sam's hand.

Cas took the pills and placed them in his mouth.

"Swallow. Don't chew," Sam said quickly as he handed him back the water.

The angel managed to swallow the pills pulling a face as he did so. Dean added it to the expressions he'd never expected to see Castiel make.

"What happened, Cas?" Dean asked as they waited for the bleeding to stop. "How come your angel healing mojo isn't kicking in?"

"I was careless. One of my sisters caught up to me."

Sam's eyebrows rose. "Another angel did this?"

Cas met his startled look with a steady stare. "All the angels have been ordered to kill me on sight."

Neither of the brothers knew what to say to that.

"So your mojo doesn't work on injuries made by other angels?" Dean said after a pause.

"Only wounds that have been dealt by an angel's blade," Castiel replied. "The blade pierces not only the body of our vessels but our true forms as well."

Dean remembered seeing Cas wielding one of those short silver blades as he was forced to kill two of his brothers. He also remembered noting exactly where the blade had been thrust into the others angels in order to kill them. Glancing back down at Cas' wounds, now covered by the blood stained towel, Dean realized exactly how close Castiel had come to dying just like them in a brief flash of light and he swallowed convulsively.

"Did you kill her?" he asked, only realizing after he'd said it that it probably wasn't the best question to ask.

Gazing at the ground, Cas didn't answer, but the look on his face was enough.

"I'm sorry," said Sam quietly.

The angel remained silent.

After a few more minutes, Dean carefully peeled the towel away from the wounds and decided the bleeding had stopped enough for them to start stitching. "Grab the whiskey," he told his brother.

"Can angels even get infections?" Sam questioned as he fetched the needed bottle from Dean's duffle.

Castiel didn't offer to enlighten them so Dean shrugged. "Better safe than sorry." He took the whiskey and unscrewed the cap. "This is going to sting," he warned Cas.

The angel nodded.

Dean wasn't surprised this time when Cas flinched from the pain or even when he gasped. He was surprised however when the lights suddenly flickered and sparks came from the television.

"Um, Cas," said Dean glancing around slightly nervous. "Was that you?"

"Sorry." The angel managed to look mildly sheepish.

The Winchesters exchanged looks. It was a sharp reminder that even though Cas was injured, he still definitely wasn't human.

"'S alright. Just try not to blow anything up. I'd really rather not have to explain that to the owner."

Once the wounds were clean, the brothers began stitching. Sam took the back and Dean the front doing both at once in order to get things over quickly. Cas remained quiet throughout, but Dean could tell from the tension in his shoulders that even with the painkillers, the angel was still feeling a significant amount of pain. Dean was glad that though the wound was deep, it wasn't too long so it didn't require too many stitches. When they finished, Dean wrapped some gauze around the shoulder and taped it into place.

"All done," he said letting out a sigh of relief.

Castiel immediately tried to get up only to find his legs would no longer support him.

"Whoa," exclaimed Dean as the brothers steadied the wobbly angel before he fell over. "Where do you think you're going?"

"You said you were done," replied Cas frowning. "I should leave."

"We're done patching you up, but you still need to take it easy for awhile," Sam explained. "You lost a lot of blood."

They lowered the angel back down until he was seated on the bed once more. He continued to sway even then. His normally intense eyes were becoming cloudy and his complexion had become even paler. Dean had a bad feeling. He reached out placing the back of his hand against Cas' cheek. The skin was clammy and much too cool.

"Not good."

Sam imitated the movement and frowned. "He's going into shock."

Dean put a hand on the angel's good shoulder. "You are not going anywhere."

He expected a protest, but all the energy seemed to have left Castiel. It felt like they were caring for a sleepy child as they removed his shoes and settled him into the bed. He remained quiet and still as they piled all the blankets on top of him and used a pillow to prop up his feet.

"You still with us, Cas," Dean asked as he tucked him in.

The angel's head nodded imperceptibly. "I feel…" Cas' lips moved silently for a moment in dazed uncertainty. "I feel… unwell," he finally concluded.

Dean snorted. "I'm not surprised. A good portion of your blood is currently decorating your trench coat. Exactly how long did you stand around bleeding before you decided to call?"

"I was uncertain as to whether or not the bleeding would stop on its own."

"Remind me to give you a few lessons on basic first aid," replied Dean rolling his eyes. He noticed that the angel's eyes were beginning to droop. "But I'll save them for later. Why don't you get some sleep."

"I don't sleep," Castiel mumbled his eyes already closed.

"Sure. Try telling me that again in two minutes."

But Cas' made no reply, his breathing already settled into an even rhythm.

Dean pressed two fingers to the pulse point in Castiel's neck and rested his other hand against his forehead. He was relieved to find that Cas already felt a little warmer. Taking a step back, Dean let himself collapse onto the edge of the other bed, his exhaustion returning as everything caught up with him. He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees as he watched the sleeping angel.

Eventually, a hand on his shoulder made him look up. Sam was gazing down at him with a look of sympathy but there was a slight teasing glint in his eyes as well.

"Lay off," Dean said shrugging off the hand and trying to re-establish his macho manner. "It's not like you haven't done the same for me or me for you."

"I know." Sam gave him a warm smile. "He's going to be alright," he said.

"Of course he is. This is Castiel. He's like us. Not even death can keep him down," replied Dean rubbing his forehead worriedly even as he said it.

"I can watch him for awhile if you'd like to get some sleep."

"No. No, it's alright. I don't mind staying up," Dean said eyes still on his injured friend. Suddenly, sleep didn't seem so important anymore.


	8. Over A Few Drinks

**Title**: Over A Few Drinks  
**Characters**: Ellen, Jo, Castiel (with Dean, Sam, and Bobby cameos)  
**Rating**: PG for one swear  
**Genre**: Humour, Family, Fluff, and a little Angst  
**Word Count**: 1785  
**Spoilers**: 5x10  
**Summary**: Extended scene from 5x10 from Ellen's POV

**Over A Few Drinks**

**By Daylight**

The first thing Ellen said when they'd finished discussing how they were going to kill the devil was, "I need a drink."

"Help yourself," said Bobby not bothering to look up from the old box he was searching through. "You know where it is."

Ellen nodded and headed for the fridge where she grabbed four beers, immediately handing two to Dean.

"You read my mind," he said with a smirk. "Thanks, Ellen." He tossed the extra beer to his brother and they wandered off into Bobby's library for a little last minute research.

Ellen figured Bobby wasn't up for beer seeing as he was so intent on finding whatever it was he was looking for so she handed the third bottle to her daughter who smiled in thanks. Popping off the top of her own, Ellen closed her eyes and took a long, deep drink.

When she opened her eyes once more, she found the angel watching her.

Ellen had almost forgotten their sixth member which was odd considering the angel had an intense presence even when silent. She found Castiel's whole manner eerie and alien. It set off all her instincts for the supernatural in a bad way. She'd be inclined to distrust him if it weren't for two things: one the Winchesters had introduced him as a friend and two, and more importantly, they treated him like family. Which was odd considering they took family stuff pretty seriously and because Castiel seemed to be nothing like them, from his scruffy suit to his overly stoic attitude.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "What? Never seen a lady drink before?"

Castiel's expression changed almost imperceptibly with only the smallest deepening of the crease in his nose. "The consumption of alcohol is a human habit I've still yet to fully understand."

Ellen exchanged glances with Jo. "Well, if you want the simplest explanation, I'd say we drink because it makes us feel good," said the older woman.

"I've had beer before," he replied in his usual monotone. "I didn't feel any different."

A slow smile spread across Ellen's face. "Then maybe it's time you tried some of the good stuff."

Putting down her beer, she opened one of the cupboards and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a couple shot glasses. She set them on the small kitchen table and sat down. Jo grew a similar smile and sat beside her mother beckoning Cas to sit as well. He took the seat across from Ellen watching as she poured out the whiskey. Ellen had to try hard not to laugh at the innocent curiosity in his gaze. She quickly downed her shot then pushed the second towards the angel.

"Go on."

In a movement that mimicked hers almost exactly, Castiel knocked down the whiskey slamming the glass back down on the table. Both Ellen and Jo watched him intently waiting for him to choke or cough or sputter, but instead he remained impassive as a statue staring off into the distance.

"Well…?" asked Jo.

"It's warm," Cas finally pronounced.

"That's a start," said Ellen and she poured out two more shots. "I take it angels don't normally drink," she commented passing over his second drink.

"It's a human vice we don't usually partake in." He drank his shot at the same time as Ellen still showing no reaction to the alcohol.

"You don't seem to have any problem partaking in human vices now," Jo noted.

Cas sighed. "Dean's a bad influence."

Ellen snorted. "Don't I know it."

Jo rolled her eyes and took another slug of her beer.

"You seem to be handling your liquor pretty well for a first timer," Ellen noted after they'd both had a third shot.

"I believe I possess a superior constitution."

Stopping just as she was about to pour another round, Ellen stared at the angel. "Is that a challenge?"

Castiel's forehead furrowed. "I was merely stating a fact."

"Sounded like a challenge to me. Jo, fetch another bottle of whiskey and all the shot glasses you can find."

Jo shook her head, but got up to do as her mother had asked. "Bobby's going to be pissed."

"The man said 'Help Yourself.' 'S not our fault he didn't specify as to what or how much."

The amount of shot glasses Bobby owned proved to be surprisingly large. Ellen lined up five in front of her and five in front of Cas, and with skills only gained from years working as a bartender, she poured whiskey into each without spilling a single drop.

"What's this?" asked Castiel.

"This is what we call a little drinking game," explained Ellen. "We each take turns, five shots at a time. Winner's the one who drinks the most. Loser's the one who ends up sleeping it off under the table."

"I have no wish to sleep under the table."

"Then you'd better hope that angelic constitution of yours holds out." Picking up her first glass, Ellen threw the drink back then smoothly went through each of her shots without any hesitation. She smirked as she set the last empty glass on the table. "Alright, big boy. Go."

The angel went through his shots so fast Ellen began to wonder if he even needed to breath. Once he was done his eyes drifted wide with childish wonder.

"I think I'm starting to feel something."

Jo stared at him incredulously her shoulder beginning to shake with suppressed giggles. Ellen kicked her in the shin causing Jo to straighten up, but the laughter still danced in her eyes.

Meanwhile, Castiel was slowly swinging his head back and forth and tilting it from side to side. "I think my balance is off."

"Better not go flying then," said Jo, her lips still twitching. "Wouldn't want you crashing into anything."

Castiel looked affronted. "I don't crash into things."

"You've never been drunk," Ellen pointed out and found herself trying to suppress her own giggles as Cas switched from tough, stoic angel back to curious child. She could just imagine him contemplating what it was like to fly drunk and she hoped he wasn't actually stupid enough to try it. "Sure you want to keep going?"

"I see no reason not to continue."

"If you want to back out…"

Castiel's serious angel gaze had returned. "I am up for the challenge."

"Getting nervous, Mom?" asked Jo smirking at her.

"Now then Joanna Beth, just whose side are you on?" Ellen demanded.

Jo raised her hands. "I know better than take sides. I just happened to notice that it's your turn and you haven't poured yet."

"Sometimes I wonder exactly where you got that smart mouth of yours, young lady," said Ellen as she poured out the next round.

"It's called genetics."

Castiel glanced from one to the other. "Is this the normal way human children treat their mothers?"

"Only the sassy ones," replied Ellen.

Jo responded by sticking her tongue out at her.

"I suppose it's my fault for bringing her up in a bar. Not that I could keep her out mind you."

"Don't you dare tell him that story," said Jo levelling her finger at her mother.

Ellen ignored her. "You see one evening when she was just eight, I put her to bed in the back room before the rush, thinking she was nice and settled down. An hour later, I look from up from serving drinks and see this crowd gathering in the corner. I go over to see what the commotion is about and what do I see in the middle of this circle of big burly hunters…"

"I said don't you dare," repeated Jo getting up, hands on the table one knee still on her chair.

"…but my little baby girl in pigtails and wearing…"

"You're just trying to avoid your turn."

"Am not," countered Ellen before continuing. "…and wearing Bambi pyjamas…"

"Drink up." Jo's posture was fierce, but her voice was full of laughter.

"…as she told them a story her daddy had told her about a wendigo…"

"Stop it. Drink up."

Ellen finally acquiesced and downed her first shot.

Still laughing, Jo headed off towards the fridge. "I'm going to get another beer."

The departure of Jo didn't stop Ellen from continuing the tale. "All of the hunters were completely rapt by her story and Jo just stood there staring right back at them, not the least bit unsettled by the fact that they were all over twice her size and carrying at least three weapons each." Ellen drank another shot. "A couple of months back, I saw Jo use the same ferocity to stare down a real wendigo, the biggest you ever saw, just before she torched the bitch."

"You're very proud of your daughter," Castiel observed watching Ellen with his head tilted slightly to the side.

"Of course." She glanced to the other side of the room where Jo was talking to Dean.

Ellen's eyes narrowed. She could tell what that boy was after just by the way he stood and though she loved Dean dearly, she'd send him back to hell if he dared use her baby like that. Schooling herself, she looked away, because the truth was Jo had grown up quite a bit in the past couple of years and the girl could fight her own battles now, at least when it came to men. Ellen downed her last three shots.

"This isn't the life I wanted for her," she told Cas, "but I have to admit, she's done a lot of good. I am very proud of her."

"You love her despite her disobedience?"

Gazing off into the distance, Ellen smiled. "Sometimes I think it just makes me love her more."

For a moment, Ellen thought she saw a wistful look in the angel's eyes, but before she could wonder about it, they were interrupted by the return of Jo who rejoined them with a satisfied smile on her face. Smiling fondly back at her daughter, Ellen rubbed a hand across her back.

"So," said Jo nodding towards Castiel. "Managed to get the angel drunk yet?"

"Not quite," Ellen replied.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at the two of them. "I see. Then this game is simply a conspiracy to get me drunk."

"Of course," agreed Jo. "How else are we supposed to get you to crack a smile?"

The angel stared at them a moment then turned to his drinks going though the whiskey as quickly as he had the first time. After he'd finished, Ellen and Jo watched expectantly, but he simply raised his eyebrows challengingly at them.

Ellen leaned back in her chair. "This is going to be tougher than I thought."


	9. Angels and Evergreens

**Title**: Angels and Evergreens  
**Characters**: Castiel, Dean, Sam, Bobby  
**Rating**: G  
**Genre**: Humour, Friendship, Family  
**Word Count**: 766  
**Spoilers**: Set in season 5, but only very vague spoilers  
**Summary**: Castiel asks some seemingly innocent questions while Sam and Dean do battle with a Christmas tree.

**Angels and Evergreens**

**By Daylight**

"Why do you have a plant attached to your car?"

Dean glanced over his shoulder at the inquisitive angel standing in the snow then went back to trying to remove the fir tree from the roof of the Impala. "Because Bobby's an idiot."

Castiel tilted his head and frowned at him.

From the other side of the car, Sam gave his brother a look. "Bobby asked us to pick up a tree on our way here," he told Castiel.

"And if there's a single scratch, a single gob of sap on my baby. He's going to be paying for a whole new wax job," Dean grumbled fighting with a knot in one of the many ropes holding down the tree.

"I told you we should have come here first and borrowed one of his trucks."

"It's freezing." The knot finally came loose in Dean's numb fingers and he started on another one. "No way were we going to come all the way down here just to go out again so we could get a stupid tree."

The angel continued to watch as the brothers struggled to disentangle the ropes. "Why does Bobby need a tree?"

"For Christmas. Because for some reason the old man feels like celebrating. And you just don't say no to Bobby." Dean swore as the new knot refused to untie. "Why'd you have tie these so tight?"

Sam gave him another vexed look. "Because I didn't feel like picking up a crushed tree off the highway. Just cut it with a knife."

Dean did.

A green branch shot out and hit him in the face.

"Damn it!"

Sam grinned.

"For Christmas?" Castiel asked.

"You know, to decorate." Dean waved his hands about as if to demonstrate. "Decking the halls and all that crap. The tree is one of the biggest Christmas traditions."

"Actually," interjected Sam as he pulled the last of the rope off the car, "bringing in evergreen boughs and decorating trees was originally one of the pagan traditions. Evergreens were thought to be powerful because they stayed green during winter."

"Well, they're certainly useful to have around if you need to take care of a pesky pagan god," said Dean with a smirk.

Castiel glanced from one to the other. "What's Christmas?"

The Winchesters raised their eyebrows at him.

"You don't know what Christmas is?" asked Sam unbelievingly.

The expression on the angel's faced remained one of confusion.

"It's a time of year when lots of people run through giant mazes," Dean explained with enthusiasm, "trying to find useless objects to give other people while brightly coloured lights flash on and off, and the same crappy songs are played over and over again in order to drive them mad." To Sam, he added, "Grab that end," pointing to the bottom of the tree.

"Dean, stop trying to confuse the angel. And I'm not taking that end. You take it."

"But confusing Cas is so much fun," replied Dean with a grin. "Why do I have to take the big end? You know this would have been a whole lot easier if you hadn't insisted on getting such a large tree."

"We never have a real full sized Christmas tree. I thought we deserved to get a big one. Besides, it looked the nicest."

"Whatever. You're still taking the big end."

"Fine," Sam concede in exasperation.

With much cursing, they managed to haul the tree off the car. Branches poked into them, sap stuck to their hands and needles covered everything.

Still struggling to get a good grip, Dean addressed Castiel once more. "Mostly it's just a good excuse to spend time with your friends and family, eat lots of food and drink lots of eggnog, not to mention hanging shiny lights on everything."

"But technically," explained Sam grunting under the weight of the tree as they began making their way towards Bobby's house, "following Christian tradition, Christmas is when we celebrate the birth of Jesus."

"Jesus?"

The brothers stopped and stared incredulously at Castiel.

The angel stared back his eyes wide with seemingly innocent curiosity; then suddenly, the left corner of his mouth lifted in the tiniest of smirks.

Sam and Dean exchanged looks.

There soon followed a thud and the thump of something landing in the snow.

Wondering what was keeping them, Bobby wheeled out onto the porch to see what was going on. He rolled his eyes at the sight below.

"I know you boys don't celebrate Christmas much, but traditionally, the angel goes on top of the tree, not the other way 'round."


	10. What Am I?

**Title: **What Am I?  
**Characters:** Castiel, Sam, Dean  
**Rating:** G  
**Genre:** Angst, Character Study  
**Word Count: **1446  
**Spoilers:** Vague spoilers for season 5  
**Summary: **_"But I am not human. It is not who I am. I am an angel. Or at least I'm supposed to be."_

**What Am I?**

**By Daylight**

It was just an offhand comment, the type Dean made all the time. He had that kind of attitude and that kind of mouth. If pressed, he would have said it was a complement and to him, it was. But words can have a lot of meanings. Like with sarcasm, for example. It was Castiel's first use of sarcasm that had made Dean grin like a proud parent, had made him laugh and utter the unfortunate statement:

"Jesus, Cas. You're becoming more human everyday."

The angel didn't share his mirth. In fact, all previous hints of amusement faded from his face. His jaw tightened and his eyes grew cold. Turning away, Castiel swiftly left the motel room using the door for once and leaving a dumbfounded Dean in his wake.

"What?" the man called after him. "What did I say?"

Sighing, Sam looked at his brother and shook his head. It wasn't that Dean was in anyway dumb, but certain emotional subtleties sometimes passed him by or took a while to sink in.

"What?" Dean repeated responding to Sam's continued gaze.

The younger Winchester didn't reply. Instead, he raised his eyebrows at Dean managing to silently communicate with just his eyes that his brother was being an idiot, before he followed the angel's path out the door.

For a moment, Dean made as if to go after them, concern and frustration warring on his face. Then he threw his arms up into the air, cried a strangled scream and collapsed onto his bed.

Outside, Sam searched for Castiel and soon spotted him a short distance away leaning against the low concrete wall that marked the edge of the motel's property. The angel almost glowed in the light of the street lamps as if he was fighting off the darkness of the cloudy night. It was surprising that he hadn't simply taken flight and disappeared. It was always possible Castiel was just tired, Sam mused. That had been occurring more often lately as Cas wore out his diminished powers until even his human body was drained. But Sam had noticed the way the angel had been hanging out with them more and more recently and he decided it was most likely Castiel just didn't want to be too far away.

"I take it you didn't like Dean calling you human," he observed as he approached Cas' spot.

Not bothering to glance at Sam, the angel remained staring blankly into the distance. "Your brother seems to derive great delight in trying to convert me to your ways."

"I thought you enjoyed learning all about us mud monkeys."

"I do, but that does not mean I wish to be human."

Sam bristled. "And exactly what is wrong with being human?"

"Nothing," Castiel sighed, briefly letting his eyes close as he hung his head. "I admire humans. I care for them a great deal, especially my friends." He finally turned to look at Sam as he said this. "But I am not human. It is not who I am. I am an angel. Or at least I'm supposed to be." He looked away again casting his eyes to the cloud covered sky as if searching for the stars.

"What do you mean?"

The angel remained silent.

"Cas?" Sam asked uncertainly.

Sad eyes still gazing upward, Castiel began speaking softly in his hoarse tone. "I used to exist in a world of purity and light with the minds of a thousand of my brothers and sisters singing in my head. I had the entire knowledge of the world within my reach and the ability to warp its merest fabric at my fingertips." He looked back down as he scuffed his foot against the grit on the pavement. "Now, my abilities are limited to the power of my grace. I am stuck in this grubby world of solid ground and sharp corners and stuck in a vessel of flesh which is becoming more my own everyday. And I feel… The mere fact that I feel…"

"But you're still an angel."

"Am I?"

Angel or not, the fierce glare Castiel gave Sam had enough power in it that the younger Winchester had to fight not to back away.

"Do you even understand what an angel is? Like the fact your eyes can not look on our true forms, your words can not begin to describe us. But what defines our existence is our obedience, our service to heaven and God. But I have disobeyed heaven and been cut off from its righteousness. I can't even be counted as one of the fallen since I haven't ripped out my grace to be reborn or fled to hell to join the ranks of Lucifer. I do not belong to heaven, hell or earth. I am an abomination, neither one thing nor the other."

"That's just semantics," Sam countered. "Do you need to be in a category, to be classified? Isn't who you are and what you do more important?"

"But who I am is implicitly tied to being an angel." Castiel slumped back against the wall, the ferocity of before leaving him. "I have lost everything. I do not want to lose myself as well."

Putting a hand on his shoulder, Sam said, "I understand. I…"

But Castiel shrugged off the hand turning away. "I find that extremely unlikely."

"Cas, what am I?"

Glancing back, Castiel frowned at him.

"What am I?" Sam repeated.

"You're human."

"Really?" Sam slapped his hands against his chest. "I have demon blood inside of me. I can… I used to be able to exorcize demons with my mind. I've had psychic visions. Does that sound human to you? Just look at the things I've done."

Castiel shook his head. "Demon blood doesn't make you a demon and there have always been humans with psychic powers. Despite what you've done and what has been done to you, your soul is still human."

"You can see my soul?" Sam's eyes widened as wonder and hope washed over him.

Head tilted to the side, Castiel focused on the younger Winchester as if he was looking right through him. "It's like a weathered lamp shining though a gale, but it is there and it's completely human."

Sam hadn't realized how much his fears about his soul had been weighing on him until that moment when he felt them finally lifted. Looking away, he rubbed the moisture from his eyes and leaned against the cement wall as Castiel had been gazing out over the deserted motel parking lot.

"Well, if I'm still human, then you're definitely still an angel."

"That is hardly the same thing," argued Cas. "Besides your brother would seem to disagree with that assessment."

"English isn't a perfect language," Sam tried to explain. "When Dean said you're becoming more human, he didn't mean you're turning into a human. He meant you're behaving more like one. And I can't say that's a bad thing."

Castiel watched him through narrowed eyes.

"It doesn't mean you're not an angel. I think you'll always be one even if you lose all your powers. It's part of who you are and that can't be taken away." Sam smiled at Cas. "Personally considering the actions of most of the angels I've met, I think it just means you're becoming a better one."

The corner of Castiel's mouth turned up in a tiny smile and he let out a huff that might have even been laughter. "You may be right."

Leaning against the wall, they stood side by side staring out into the night. After a few minutes, the door to the motel room opened and Dean appeared clutching three beers. He soon spotted them and headed their way grumbling as he did so.

"Crazy nutters. Where'd you get the idea that hanging out in a parking lot during winter was a good way to spend the night." When he finally reached them, he held out one of the bottles to Cas. "Here."

"I don't w…"

"Here," repeated Dean still holding out the beer with an intense gleam in his eyes.

Sam leaned towards Cas and said in a pseudo whisper, "It's his way of saying sorry."

Dean glared at Sam, but Castiel nodded and took the beer. "Thank you."

Finally relaxing, Dean handed the younger Winchester a bottle too and popping the cap off his own, took a long drink. "So… Everything's good?" he asked looking questioningly at his brother.

Sam glanced at Castiel who if not exactly smiling anymore wore a relaxed expression which was as close as he usually got. "All's good," he replied with a nod.

Dean turned to look at the angel. "What about you, Cas? You good?"

"I am…" Castiel tilted his head to the side contemplating his words a moment before finally saying, "I am better."


	11. Light on Water

**Title:** Light on Water  
**Characters: **Dean, Sam, Castiel  
**Rating: **G  
**Genre: **Fluff  
**Word Count: **1206  
**Spoilers:** Very vague season 5 spoilers  
**Summary:** Dean, Sam and Castiel and a day in the sun.

**Light on Water**

**By Daylight**

Sunlight flickered across the surface of the lake like a thousand pieces of gold, the fractured light leaving a lengthy trail along the water amid the rippling reflections of evergreens and pure blue sky. After a quick flight through the air, an object hit the water breaking the surface and causing soft circular waves to fade outward. The object was a metal hook with a worm attached. The hook itself was attached to a thin almost invisible line and the line was attached to a long, black rod held lightly in a pair of rough, calloused hands.

"And that is how you fish," declared Dean taking a deep breath of the sweet air.

Standing beside him on the pier, Castiel gazed out to where the float bobbed on the water his eyes narrowing. "But if you want to eat fish, wouldn't it be easier just to buy some?"

Dean let his head fall back and his eyes roll. "I don't want to eat fish."

"Dean doesn't even like fish," said Sam from where he sat on the dock dangling his bare feet off the edge and letting them drift through the cool water.

"Then why is he trying to catch one?"

"Eating the fish isn't the point," Dean explained with a wave of his hand. "The point is to actually catch it."

Pushing up the sleeve of his coat, Castiel knelt down and dipped his hand beneath the surface of the water. After a moment, he pulled it out again sunlight glinting off the silver and green scales of a fish calmly lying in his palm.

Sam grinned.

Dean scowled. "That's cheating."

Castiel let the fish slip from his hand. It slid down into the water and disappeared into the murkiness below. "Then the point isn't the actual catch," said the angel.

"Well, no," Dean admitted. "The point is… The point is…"

"The point is that there is no point," announced Sam as he lay back resting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes against the bright sun.

"Exactly," agreed his brother. Sticking the fishing rod in a gap between the pier's weathered boards, Dean quickly removed his dusty, leather boots and heavy socks, rolled up the legs of his jeans and sat down dipping his toes in next to Sam's.

Castiel gazed down at the black, dress shoes on his feet then slowly and deliberately removed each one placing them carefully aside. Then he did the same with his socks. Rolling up his dark, pleated pants at well as he could, he sat down beside Dean and tentatively let his feet breach the surface of the lake. His legs and feet were unsurprisingly pale. The angel stared at the distorted image of his feet beneath the water as if he'd never seen them before.

"How's that feel?" Dean asked smiling at him.

Castiel frowned. "Good, I believe. The water is soft and cools my feet while the rest of me remains very warm."

"You know you could always take off the trenchcoat if you're too hot. Not to mention the jacket and tie."

Seemingly taken aback as if the man had suggested removing his own skin, Castiel glanced down at the beige folds of his coat.

Dean merely raised his eyebrows.

Hesitantly, Castiel slid his arms out of the trenchcoat pulling it off and carefully folding it before placing it beside his shoes. The suit jacket and blue tie soon followed leaving the angel only in his white shirt and dark pants.

"Much better," said Dean.

Appearing a lot lighter without all the extra clothes, Castiel gazed out at the quiet lake. "So we simply spend the whole time just resting here?"

"Mmhmm," answered Sam eyes still closed.

Dean grinned a wicked grin. "Of course, if you'd like to go out on the lake later we could always go sailing in one of those giant boats Sam calls boots."

Eyes opening the merest crack, Sam reached up above his head and removed one of the gray socks he'd stowed in his shoes. Then without getting up he proceeded to shove it in his brother's face.

"Ew. Gross," exclaimed Dean grabbing the sock out of Sam's hand and throwing it into the lake.

Sam pushed himself up on his elbows and looked out at his sock now floating on the water. "Hey, that was my sock."

"Yup."

"I liked that sock."

"Then swim out and get it."

"You're the one who threw it. Why don't you go get it?"

Dean watched as the sock drifted away. "Nah, I'll just buy you a new pair."

"Okay," Sam agreed with a shrug and lay back down.

Picking up the fishing rod, Dean adjusted the line slightly then lay down beside his brother with a contented sigh.

Castiel observed the resting pair his head tilted to the side.

Without bothering to reopen his eyes, Dean said, "Would you quit it, Cas. Just lie down and relax."

Obligingly, the angel stretched out beside them his hands resting on his stomach and his open eyes gazing up into the sun. While he watched, the slant of the sun's rays slowly changed, the sun moving across the sky as an hour crept past and the boys continued to quietly doze. It was as he watched that he caught a tug on the line out of the corner of his eye.

"Dean?"

As one, the brothers opened their eyes and looked up. Seeing the floater bob down, Dean immediately scrambled for the fishing rod. "Yes!" he exclaimed and began reeling in the line.

"It doesn't seem that big," observed Sam seeing the lack of fight on the line.

"What are you talking about? It's plenty big. It's probably a monster." Dean smirked. "I am a hunter after all."

As the line reached the edge of the pier, Dean pulled it from the water to examine his catch. It was long, gray and soggy. It was a sock, a very familiar sock.

"I don't believe that is what you intended to catch," said Castiel.

"At least now, you don't have to buy me a new one," Sam joked soon bent over laughing and gasping.

In response, Dean did the only thing a brother could do. He pushed his younger sibling into the lake.

After an enormous splash, Sam emerged sputtering and treading water. He glared up at Dean soaked tendrils of hair plastered to his face. "Dim-witted jackass.," he grumbled.

"Soggy sasquatch," Dean replied grinning back smugly, at least until a force suddenly pushed him from behind sending him tumbling head first after his brother.

Returning to the surface, Dean wiped the water from his eyes and spun around to stare in shock at the angel. Castiel remained sitting on the dock perfectly dry, a smile playing on his face like the light on the water.

"Conniving, underhanded angel."

Castiel continued to smile calmly down at them.

After several minutes of horseplay and much splashing as the brothers tried to drench the angel, Sam and Dean clambered back onto the dock. The three lay down on the sun-warmed wood once more as the sun dried them, its light glistening off the drops of water on their skin.


	12. Between Brothers

**Title:** Between Brothers  
**Characters: **Castiel, Gabriel, Dean, Sam  
**Rating: **PG  
**Genre: **Hurt/Comfort, Angst  
**Word Count: **2831  
**Spoilers: **5x08, 5x13  
**Summary:** _The face grinning down at him was not one Castiel had expected to see. It was also not one he had ever wanted to see again. (Tag to 5x13)_

* * *

**Between Brothers**

**By Daylight**

For a moment, Castiel couldn't remember if he was an angel pretending to be a man or a man pretending to be an angel.

All he knew, all he felt was pain. It radiated from every single cell of his body. A body that, as consciousness grew, he had to remind himself was not his. Groggily, he fought to distinguish the part of him that was angel, his grace, from the flesh and bones he had borrowed. It was something that was becoming troublingly more difficult the longer he wore this human vessel.

In his efforts, he touched on the other soul that still resided within and felt a wave of sorrow when he realized Jimmy too was feeling the pain. As gently as he could, he pushed Jimmy deeper into the numbing void of unconsciousness while guilt determinately stung at him. Unfortunately, this left him alone to deal with the pain and the feeling was overwhelming. The task of differentiating himself became impossible. It didn't help that the pain was not just coming from his human body. It was coming from his true self as well. He could feel each place where his voyages through time had torn his body and the matching tears that criss-crossed his grace, a grace that seemed much too weak and dim.

Dark sleep was calling to him, but he fought against it. He had vague recollections of arriving in Sam and Dean's motel room and the look of concern on their faces as they caught his failing body, but he couldn't be sure how much time had passed since then. He needed to make sure he was still safe and so were they. So pulling together what little energy he could find, Castiel did battle against the pain until he reached a state of true consciousness. Only then did he become aware of where he was.

He was on a bed, the faint smell of detergent and old fabric coming from the soft pillow beneath his head. He was lying on his side under a rough blanket and had somehow been divested of his shoes and some of his outer layers of clothes. There was also the faint sound of snoring echoing through the room.

There didn't seem to be any danger, but for some reason he couldn't reach out with his true angelic senses to confirm. He couldn't even find the impetus to open his eyes. Weariness continued to pull at him. It would be so easy to just slip back into unconsciousness. After a minute where nothing changed except his increased feeling of exhaustion, Castiel decided to give in and fall back into the darkness.

That was when he felt the mattress beneath him shift as someone sat down.

With an effort that seemed ridiculously large in proportion to what he was attempting to do, Castiel opened his eyelids and gazed up at the person sitting beside him. The face grinning down at him was not one he had expected to see. It was also not one he had ever wanted to see again.

"Hey, Castiel. Boy, do you look like crap."

"Gabriel?" Castiel croaked gazing in confusion at the Trickster. But before he could ask why the former archangel was there, the burning pain inside him suddenly bubbled upward in an overwhelming feeling of nausea and he found himself convulsing as he coughed warm, dark liquid onto the bed. The convulsions seemed to last an eternity, but when Castiel came back to himself he could feel strong hands on his back and shoulder holding him steady. He opened his eyes once more narrowing them wearily at his brother.

Gabriel was busy grimacing at the mess Castiel had made. "All these centuries and I still can't stand the sight of human blood." The archangel waved his hand and the blood vanished.

"How… how did you find me?" Castiel whispered hoarsely.

"You, little brother, are getting careless," Gabriel admonished. "What? You think you can just blaze through time like that and have no one notice?"

Castiel's eyes widened as he realized the Trickster was speaking the truth. He had been careless. Groggy and disoriented from his first journey through time, he'd panicked when he'd woken up and found himself alone in a strange motel room. He'd been unable to find Sam and Dean, but he found their parents instead, now perfectly safe but with the fingerprints of Michael etched into their minds. Worried about what that could mean for the brothers, he'd raced back to their time heedlessly without using any wards or any of the other countless tricks he'd learned to stop other angels from tracking him. If Gabriel had managed to find him, it was only a matter of time before…

"Don't worry about it," said Gabriel obviously sensing his concerns. "I took care of it. A little twist here. A little flick of the wrist there. No other angel is going to have any hope of tracking you down."

Castiel held no belief that things could be so easily fixed without any consequences. "Why?"

Gabriel stood up gesturing angrily. "What? No 'thank you'? No 'Hey, bro. How's it going.'?"

"Last time we met, you threw me into a pocket dimension full of goblins."

Rolling his eyes, the archangel said, "So, it's not like they could've have killed you or anything. I just needed you out of the way so I could try to knock some sense into these two stubborn bozos." He motioned to the other side of the room.

Carefully turning over his still aching body, Castiel glanced behind him. Sam and Dean were on the other bed, both asleep. The farthest from him, Sam, was sprawled out under the covers, long limbs dangling off the edge. On the other side, Dean slept propped up against the wall, still in his clothes having apparently fallen asleep doing research, the laptop sitting precariously on his legs.

Castiel turned back to his brother glaring at him with all the ferocity of his well worn grace. "You will not harm them."

"You're hardly in any condition to be uttering threats, bro. Besides…" Gabriel sat back down at his feet. "I'm not here for them. I'm here for you."

"Why? What do you want with me?" asked Castiel gazing at him warily.

"What do I want?" Gabriel snorted. "Will you just look at yourself? Seriously, look at what those humans have done to you!"

"The Winchesters have done nothing to me."

"You're dying, Castiel," the archangel pronounced his voice dark.

The younger angel swallowed, an all too human gesture. "I'm fine."

"Come on. You knew that travelling through time without the aid of heaven was a suicide mission from the get go."

As much as Castiel wanted to deny it, Gabriel was again telling the truth. It was a truth Castiel had been trying to ignore since he had woken up. He'd ignored the fading beat of his heart and the dimming light of his grace even though he knew both were failing him. What he'd done had pushed his powers way beyond their limits. He'd used up all of his energy until he was using the energy that kept his very being together. Both his vessel and his grace had been left bare to be damaged by the winds of time and now there was no power left with which to fix them.

He was going to die, again.

And Gabriel was pissed off. He glared down at Castiel. "How could you let them use you like that?"

"They did not use me. I aided them willingly," Castiel protested and tried to sit up tired of having his brother staring down at him. However, it proved more difficult than he had anticipated. There didn't appear to be any energy left to even power the muscles in his limbs.

After watching him struggle for a moment, Gabriel gave a sigh of exasperation and reached over pulling Castiel up until he was propped up against the head of the bed. "What you've been doing is being an idiot."

Castiel wished to object to Gabriel's insult but the change in position had dislodged something in his chest and he found himself coughing again instead. A fine spray of blood coated his hand and he leaned back against the wall his chest feeling heavy.

Gabriel shook his head. "What is it about those two boneheads that makes you want dive off a cliff every time they say jump?"

"They're special," Castiel whispered tiredly.

"They're special," Gabriel mocked rolling his eyes again. "Of course, they're special. They're the vessels of Michael and Lucifer."

"That's not what I meant."

"Right. So they've just got this special something that makes you willing to sacrifice everything."

Castiel's jaw grew tight. "It isn't just for them. It's for all the other humans too, the countless ones who would be destroyed if Lucifer and Michael were allowed to do battle."

Turning away, Gabriel waved dismissively with his hand. "Oh, please. You're doing it for Sam and Dean and you know it. You can't resist their little puppy dog eyes every time they ask you for help." He looked back at Castiel head tilted to the side and eyebrows raised. "You know they take you for granted."

"They are my friends," Castiel insisted.

"You're just a tool to them, another weapon in their arsenal. You think if you were truly their friend they'd let you kill yourself like this and leave you to die alone while they slept."

Castiel looked away his eyes falling on the sleeping brothers. "They didn't know."

"Oh, ignorance. That's a great excuse."

"You don't know them," Castiel said his voice almost a growl.

"Don't know them?" Crossing his arms across his chest, Gabriel snorted. "I've been watching them for years. They're a pair of deluded, self-sacrificing, arrogant dicks."

Castiel simply shook his head.

"They actual think they can resist destiny by just saying no. Meanwhile, the rest of us have to hang around waiting for the inevitable and I, for one, am tired of seeing this thing drawn out."

"You shouldn't be so eager to see the end of the world."

Leaning forward, Gabriel gazed pointedly at him. "You know if Mikey wins we might actually get that paradise on Earth Raphael's always been so crazy about. The humans would certainly be happy then. The surviving ones that is."

"And whose paradise would that be?" Castiel asked eyebrows raised. "Michael's? Raphael's? Zachariah's? Would it be one of the many versions of utopia that humans dream of or would it simply be a world where the angels dominate and have complete control?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Hey. At least, it would be better than hell."

"Some would argue that point."

"Damn, those boys have seriously messed with you," the Trickster exclaimed letting out a whistle. "And I don't mean the whole getting you killed, twice. Maybe it's time I taught them another lesson…" His eyes drifted off in thought as a smirk slid across his face.

Jaw clenched, Castiel glared at him again.

Catching the look, Gabriel sighed. "Fine. I'll leave them alone. But you know our brothers are seriously pissed off right now. Even if you did survive and the world didn't end, it's not like they'd just forgive and forget. There's no going home again."

"They are not my brothers. The host of heaven forgot what it meant to be brothers long ago." Castiel gazed over at the Winchesters. He suddenly felt a strange pang as he realized when he died, he would never see them again. He took a deep breath. "Only they truly know. It was they who reminded me. My so called brothers could care less whether I or any of their other siblings lived or died."

"I care," Gabriel insisted vehemently.

"You left." Shaking his head, Castiel looked at the archangel with anger and disappointment. "I used to look up to you. Of all the archangels, you were the only one who saw the angels below you as more than just soldiers in a war, who saw the humans as more than just animals. Then you disappeared without warning and I find you down here playing games." Castiel was breathing heavily and his voice had grown weak reduced to a whisper. "When you care about your family, you help them. You do not abandon them, no matter what they've done. That is something else Dean and Sam taught me."

As Castiel spoke, Gabriel seemed to crumple inward until he was forced to look away. There was a heavy pause as Castiel lay watching Gabriel who in turn stared unseeing at the motel's orange wallpaper. Finally without turning back towards his brother, the archangel declared in a hollow whisper, "Michael killed Anna."

Eyes closing, Castiel bowed his head.

Whether out of habit or actually hoping for an answer, Gabriel cast his eyes upward. "How many more of our family are going to burn before this is over?"

Castiel felt an urge to reach out with his hand and offer words of comfort, but his arm refused to obey his commands. His lungs, though working twice as hard, didn't seem to be gathering enough air and his fluttering heart was slowing. At the edges of his vision, the world was growing dark.

"Gabriel…" he said struggling to take another shaky breath. "Do you know what happens to angels after they die?"

The archangel turned to him with a humourless smirk. "I was hoping you could tell me. You're the one who's been dead before."

"All I remember is darkness."

"Then maybe that's all there is."

Castiel's eyelids flickered trying to shut forever, but he held on keeping his brother's gaze. "But surely, if our father… gave humans eternal souls and a place in heaven… he must have done the… same for us," he said as his voice faded away.

Gabriel's eyes were sad as he gazed fondly on Castiel. "You may be a naïve idiot, little brother, but sometimes I wish I still had your faith."

The room had gotten so dark Castiel could barely make out Gabriel's features, but he could feel the gentle touch of the archangel's hands as they were placed on each side of his face. And suddenly, there was a light, a brilliant, pure white light that travelled right through him, each particle bringing warmth and peace.

It reminded him of heaven.

Then the light disappeared. Though exhaustion still plagued him, the pain and the damage done to Castiel's body and grace were gone.

And he was alone.

Something tickled his cheek. Castiel reached up to brush it away. When he looked down at his hand, he was surprised to find a tear glistening on his fingertip. He stared at it in confusion.

A sudden crash and a groggy exclamation interrupted Castiel's thoughts. Glancing to his left, he saw Dean sitting up and looking around dazedly, the laptop that had been resting on his lap now on the floor.

"Crap," muttered Dean gazing down at the fallen computer.

"It better not be broken," said Sam sleepily from where he lay not bothering to open his eyes.

"It's fine. It's fine." Dean slipped off the bed to check and as he did so, caught sight of the angel. "Cas? You're awake!"

Eyes now wide open, Sam immediately began clambering out of bed. "Thank God."

Within a second, both brothers were at the angel's side.

"Are you alright?"

"How do you feel?"

Castiel looked from one to the other. "I'm… tired," he admitted truthfully.

"But you're going to be okay?" demanded Dean.

The angel nodded.

Sighing in relief, Dean sat back down on the other bed. "Don't you dare do anything like that ever again."

Castiel's eyes narrowed in confusion. "Travel through time?"

"Well, that too," Sam said smiling. "But I think he meant the part where you collapsed twice and scared us to death because we had no idea whether or not you'd be okay."

"My apologies."

Shaking his head, Dean leaned closer. "At least, warn us better next time. I don't know how it is with angels but for us humans, 'weaken' doesn't usually involve spewing blood and hours spent in a coma. You've got to explain stuff like that to us. You're part of this screwed up team remember."

That was enough to raise a rare smile to Castiel's lips. "I will do my best."

"I just… um… I… ah…" Dean patted Castiel awkwardly on the shoulder.

Sam grinned at his brother and laid a hand on the angel's arm. "What he said."

Still smiling, the angel nodded but his eyes flickered drowsily. Sleep was calling to him again but it was a peaceful weariness he felt instead of the painful one of before. Castiel let his eyes close, the presence of the brothers beside him bringing feelings of comfort and safety, and as his mind drifted into unconsciousness, instead of the expected darkness, all he found was fields of light.


	13. Older Brother's Prerogative

**Title:** Older Brother's Prerogative  
**Characters: **Sam, Dean, Castiel, Gabriel  
**Rating: **G  
**Genre: **Humour  
**Word Count:** 1025  
**Spoilers: **Up to 5x08  
**Summary:** In which Dean and Gabriel surprisingly bond while Sam and Castiel are reminded why sometimes it really sucks to be the little brother.

**

* * *

**

**Older Brother's Prerogative**

**By Daylight**

Sam wasn't entirely sure how it happened, but here they were.

Two humans and two angels in a bar.

There'd been another battle. Against what wasn't important. Just another group of creatures taking advantage of the apocalypse. Sam, Dean and Castiel had been doing fine, perfectly fine according to Dean, until the last creature managed to catch the older Winchester off guard almost skewering him like a kebab. That was when Gabriel had decided to show up and much to Dean's chagrin, saved his life.

The Trickster had stood there afterwards with his hands on his hips and a giant grin on his face as if waiting for a thank you.

Dean had only been able to growl and sputter in response, Castiel and Sam watching equally dumbstruck.

Finally, Dean found his voice, but only to announce he really needed a drink. Gabriel, of course, thought that was a great idea. And then suddenly, here they were, sitting in a booth at the back of a bar. A bar that Sam suspected, based on the various accents, was in fact in Australia.

Despite Dean's anger at being suddenly hijacked, he was eventually appeased after he'd drowned several beers and numerous shots paid for by the generous Gabriel. Though it could hardly be considered much of a hardship on the archangel's part considering Gabriel could easily just call up money from thin air.

Sam slowly nursed his beer feeling somewhat wary of the Trickster's intentions while across from him, Castiel stared at the strange turquoise concoction Gabriel had ordered for him as if the drink might suddenly leap out of the glass and attack. At his side, Gabriel was happily drinking the same thing, his glass decorated with an assortment of colourful umbrellas that Sam was sure it hadn't come with.

"Cheer up, guys," cried the archangel. "This is supposed to be a victory celebration."

All he got was silence from Castiel, a huff from Sam and a vague gurgle from Dean who was in the middle of his third beer.

"Party-poopers."

He reached over and slapped Castiel on the back just as the younger angel had picked up his drink to stare at it from another angle. Some of the drink spilled onto the sleeve of his trench coat and he narrowed his eyes at Gabriel.

"Drink up, bro," said the Trickster with an unapologetic smile. "You know you used to be a hell of a lot more fun when you were younger."

Dean's eyebrows perked up, Gabriel's comment catching his interest enough for him to finally put down his drink. "You hung out with Cas when he was a kid?"

"Hey, it's a big dysfunctional family, but I liked to make time for all my baby bros. And Castiel had such potential."

"Really?" Dean cast Castiel a thoughtful look.

The angel, meanwhile, was gazing intently at Gabriel. His face held its usual stoicism, but there was something in his eyes that Sam might very well qualify as dread.

"Oh, the things he used to get up to. He was such a curious child and it was always getting him into trouble." Gabriel took a large gulp of his drink then leaned forward. "You know Raphael used to tie him to one of the trees in the garden just to stop him from flying off."

Dean laughed a wide grin on his face. Sam couldn't help sniggering too especially when he swore he saw a pink tinge starting to climb up Castiel's cheeks.

"Once we almost lost him completely. I spent ages searching for him. When I finally tracked him down, I found he'd gone and pulled all the horns off the unicorns."

Dean spat beer clear across the table. "You mean there were really…. and Cas…?"

"Apparently, he thought the horns made the horsies look funny."

Dean was laughing so hard he had to lean against Sam for support. Castiel seemed to shrink slightly in his seat his hands clutching tightly to the edge of the table. Sam felt sorry for Castiel, but was enjoying seeing the usually stoic angel looking so embarrassed and uncomfortable or at least, he was until Dean spoke up.

"That reminds me of something Sammy did when he was little."

Sam almost chocked on his beer.

"Dean…" he warned.

His brother ignored him. "Once when he was four, I left him alone in this crappy motel room just for like ten minutes. When I came back, I found he had decorated the entire place with a mixture of toothpaste and Dad's shaving cream." Dean smiled fondly at his brother. Sam glared back. "He said he wanted to make the place look pretty like a birthday cake."

"Wow. Sammy, I never knew you wanted to be an interior decorator. I'll have to keep that in mind next time we play one of our little games," said Gabriel wiggling his eyebrows. "That must have been quite a mess."

"Not as bad as the one he made when he tried cooking hamburgers with gun oil," replied Dean.

"Well, little kids will be messy. You should have seen some of the stuff Castiel caused."

"He can't be as bad as Sam. I mean the stuff he did to the Impala alone. The stories I could tell you…"

Sam caught Castiel's eye seeing a matching expression of panic on the angel's face. Tilting his head in the direction of the exit, he quickly flicked his eyes up and to the side. Castiel nodded minutely and stealthily let his hand creep along the beer stained table towards the younger Winchester. His fingers were an inch from Sam's wrist when Gabriel suddenly swung an arm across Castiel's shoulders pulling the young angel towards him and away from Sam.

The archangel held tightly to his little brother wearing a grin that would have put the Cheshire Cat to shame. "Did I ever tell you of the time Cas accidentally flooded Mesopotamia?"

Trapped in his brother's grip, Castiel's eyes grew wide with horror while across from him Dean toasted him with a wicked smirk and Sam slumped low in his seat in despair.


	14. Lay Your Weary Head to Rest

**Title: **Lay Your Weary Head to Rest  
**Characters: **Dean, Sam, Castiel, plus a tiny bit of Bobby  
**Rating: **G  
**Genre:** Fluff, Family and Friendship  
**Word Count: **526  
**Spoilers:** umm... none  
**Summary: **Sam, Castiel and Dean find the best place to lay their weary heads.

**Lay Your Weary Head to Rest**

**By Daylight**

I.

Seated next to his brother on the couch in Bobby's study, Dean is thumbing tiredly through an old tome on demon lore when out of the corner of his eye he catches Sam's head nodding. It's the third time in the past ten minutes.

"Sammy, take a break."

The younger Winchester shakes his head and tries to sit up straight making a valiant effort to rouse himself, but only succeeding in knocking his half-read book off his lap and onto the floor. "But if we don't…"

Dean rolls his eyes. "It can wait an hour or two. Just go to sleep."

He must be even more tired than Dean thought because in response, Sam simply lets his eyes close and his body immediately begins to sag leaning to the side until his head finally comes to rest on his brother's shoulder.

"That's not exactly what I meant," Dean grumbles, but makes no move to dislodge his brother. Instead, he lets out a deep sigh and turns another page.

A few minutes later when Bobby comes in and spots the pair on the couch, he raises his eyebrows and gives Dean a smirk.

Dean gives him a one fingered salute in return moving carefully so as not to wake his sleeping brother.

II.

They're sitting on their beds in another random motel room watching the Ghostbusters movie when it happens. Dean doesn't even see it coming so he's very surprised by the sudden warm weight against his side.

"Dude, you have an angel on your shoulder."

"Shut up."

Ignoring his brother's teasing grin, Dean gazes down at the face of the sleeping angel who is now using his body as a pillow. There are lines of weariness there he's never seen before. He should have realized Castiel was falling asleep when his constant questions about the movie ceased.

"Would you like me to tuck you guys in?' asks Sam from the other bed.

"Shut up," Dean repeats, but softly so as not to disturb Castiel.

Carefully shifting his body into a more comfortable position, Dean settles down for the night deciding it's best to let sleeping angels lie.

III.

Dean doesn't know where he is. All he knows is exhaustion is weighing him down like a thousand tonne truck leaving him unwilling to even open his eyes. As his senses slowly begin to wake, they drowsily inform him that he is seated and leaning to the side, his head resting on something soft and warm.

Belatedly realizing what this means and unable to recall how he ended up this way, his faces reddens and he takes a deep breath trying to bring himself closer to consciousness. That's when the smell hits him.

It's long gargantuan limbs, ridiculously floppy bangs, and puppy dog pouts. It's random bizarre facts, vanilla scented coffee and pathetic practical jokes. It's endless drives through empty countryside and nights staring up at the stars. It's simply and completely Sam.

His human pillow shifts beneath him and a familiar voice says, "Go back to sleep, Dean."

Letting his body relax once more, Dean does just that.


	15. After the Storm

**Title: **After the Storm  
**Characters: **Sam, Castiel, Dean  
**Rating: **G  
**Genre:** Humour, Friendship, Family, Fluff  
**Word Count: **585  
**Spoilers:** None  
**Summary:** Dean, Sam and Castiel in a park. Sam makes Dean a present. Castiel helps. Dean naps.**  
**

**After the Storm**

**By Daylight**

"What are you doing?"

Feeling half embarrassed, half guilty, Sam glanced up from where he sat cross-legged on the grass and met the blue eyes of the angel who had suddenly appeared standing over him.

"Making a present for Dean," he explained.

The lines between the blue eyes deepened as Castiel gazed down at the delicate project that lay intertwined between Sam's long fingers.

"I'm not sure that is something Dean would enjoy," the angel said.

A smile slid its way up Sam's face.

"Trust me. He'll get a real kick out of it."

Castiel's gaze shifted to the left where Dean was stretched out sleeping in the sun. As usual, the older Winchester seemed younger while he slept, his freckles plainly visible across his relaxed face, but there were lines there as well, lines that never quite went away and grew more numerous as the years passed.

"He deserves a gift," whispered the angel.

Sam nodded in agreement. Dean deserved a gift, a day off, a holiday, heck, a whole new life, but all they had was this day and Sam's little present.

Several joyous cries could be heard in the distance and Sam looked down the hill where a group of teenagers were playing Frisbee in a clearing among the trees. The park had been the perfect place to stop. Not so crowded that they didn't have some privacy, but occupied enough that they were reminded there was still a world out there with innocent people having fun.

Looking back up, Sam asked, "Would you like to help?"

"Yes," Castiel replied as if swearing to take on a serious duty.

The angel sat down cross-legged in front of Sam tucking his trenchcoat neatly beneath him and watching intently as Sam taught him what to do.

About an hour later, when Dean woke up stretching and blinking, he found them still sitting there talking quietly.

"Hey," he murmured drowsily.

"Hey," said Sam with an amused smile.

"Dean," said Castiel gazing at him with his usual intensity.

Dean smiled fondly at the angel a moment, glad to see he was there, but something was nagging at him, something about the twist in Sam's mouth and the wrinkle in the corner of his eye. You wouldn't last long as a brother without being able to recognize that expression on your sibling's face. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Sam who smiled innocently back.

Feeling something tickle his forehead, Dean reached up to fix his sleep mussed hair, but his fingertips touched something more than just hair. Pulling it out, he stared in shock at the thing now cradled in his palm.

It was a daisy.

Sam's mouth was beginning to twitch violently as Dean reached up again this time pulling off an entire crown of intricately woven flowers.

"Why you…" he growled at his brother who was now laughing out right.

"You don't like our gift?" inquired Castiel, head tilted, eyes shinning innocently.

Dean sputtered, stymied a moment at the realization that Castiel had been in on it too. Then he turned to the one whom he knew to be the real culprit.

"Sam…"

Dean launched himself at his laughing brother. The air whooshed out of the younger Winchester's lungs as Dean tackled him and the pair began to wrestle calling out random insults and slowly rolling down the hill as they did so.

Shaking his head, Castiel rested his elbows on his knees and settled in to watch wondering whether he should inform Dean about the petals still clinging to his hair.

_And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears.  
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.  
Get over your hill and see what you find there,  
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair._

_~After the Storm, Mumford & Sons_


	16. Wasn't Me

**Title: **Wasn't Me  
**Characters: **Dean, Castiel, Sam  
**Rating: **G  
**Genre:** Humor  
**Word Count: **1844  
**Spoilers:** nothing specific  
**Summary:** Two brothers, an angel and a 10lbs bucket of gummy worms.

* * *

**Wasn't Me**

**By Daylight**

It had been a good day because they did actually have good days just not very often. They'd defeated another weird, nasty, evil thing, something so fugly it easily could have won Mr. Fugly of the Year several years running. They weren't even sure what it had been, not exactly, just that it had been taking kids and hiding them in what used to be a zoo. Luckily, like a lot of things, it wasn't a big fan of fire. So they'd quickly roasted it and rescued all the children before it had a chance to snack on them.

One creepy thing fried extra crispy, five kids safe and sound, and the Winchesters with only a few scratches and bruises to show for their trouble. That all added up to a good day in Dean's book.

Even the motel room wasn't too bad. Two queens had become two twins, the furniture was pretty old and the wallpaper faded, but it was clean. It even smelled pretty good which was seldom the case in the places they usually hung out. And most importantly, it had a working, big screen TV with free cable. That had been enough to make Dean's face light up.

Of course, what had really made Dean's day was what he'd found at the corner store when they'd stopped to pick up some supplies. The moment they'd stepped through the door, Dean had immediately found himself drawn straight to them, standing out in the middle of the store stacked one on top of the other in a colourful pyramid. He'd plucked one from the top with an almost obscene reverence, the corners of his mouth spreading outward into a large grin as he clutched it in his hands. When he'd showed his prize to Sam, his brother had simply shaken his head and moved deeper into the store to deal with more important things, but Dean had been undeterred and headed over to the cashier to make his purchase.

He didn't expect a dweeb like his brother to understand the awesomeness of a 10lbs bucket of gummy worms.

Now, he was contentedly digging into that bucket as he sat on his bed watching the movie Date Night and letting the worms dangle from his teeth as he slowly sucked on them. He was feeling a nice buzz. It was either from the three beers he'd drunk, the satisfaction of a good day's work or more likely all the sugar running through his system. The bucket was already a couple of pounds lighter.

Reaching back in, Dean pulled out another worm and tossed it over to the other bed hitting his brother on the cheek. Sam pulled a face at him but picked up the worm from where it had fallen onto his jeans and began to chew it absently. Dean could have, of course, just offered the bucket to his brother, but the older Winchester preferred sharing the gummy worms in his own way and Sam had long since given up complaining.

Dean glanced over at the other side of the room where Castiel sat at the room's well-used wooden table gazing out the window. He wasn't even sure why the angel was there. He'd just shown up like he wanted to hang out with his old buddies and catch a movie except he'd barely glanced at the television screen. He'd barely spoken either, not that that was very unusual, but Dean could tell there was some serious thinking going on behind his stoic features, the sort of thinking that was never good, at least in Dean's opinion.

Grabbing another gummy worm, Dean weaved it around his fingers a smirk beginning to play across his lips. He caught his brother's eye, waved the candy he held and then jerked his head in the direction of the angel. Sam raised his eyebrows incredulously, but Dean's smirk only grew larger. Sam shook his head, but Dean simply nodded just as insistently in response. Finally, Sam rolled his eyes and turned back to the TV, but it was obvious his attention was now divided between it and the other side of the room.

Dean stretched the gummy worm out nice and long.

**oooooo**

Castiel had let his mind drift as he contemplated the heavens outside the window, but he wasn't really thinking about the stars. Instead, he was contemplating the actual place, his home complete with a family intertwined in complicated dysfunctional relationships. He'd been so lost in thought that he'd been entirely unaware of his surroundings and the human body he currently inhabited, at least until he felt something hit his ear.

Startling, he quickly scanned the room wondering for a moment if it was some sort of attack, but there was no one else in room with him except for Sam and Dean who appeared to be watching the television calmly as if nothing had occurred. He frowned, but seeing as there was nothing amiss, he decided he must have somehow been mistaken. Maybe he had been so distracted that he'd misinterpreted a normal sensation from his vessel. Turning back to the window, he tried to return to his thoughts.

A few minutes later, he felt another hit against his shoulder. This time he was able to locate the projectile where it had landed on the floor. It was one of the colourful confectionary Dean had been eating. He turned to look at him and found him still intently concentrating on the TV. He must have felt Castiel staring at him because he turned scrunching up his nose questioningly.

"What?" Dean asked.

Castiel shook his head then returned his gaze to the stars. Maybe it was another one of those human rituals he was constantly failing to understand.

This time there were two projectiles. One missed thudding against the window. The other struck his nose.

"Dean," he rebuked.

Dean's eyes were wide and innocent. "Wasn't me."

Castiel's eyes narrowed and he found his teeth grinding together slightly, but Dean still maintained his innocent façade even against the angel's glare.

Reluctantly turning his head, Castiel waited for the inevitable. It was only a second before he was hit again, the candy landing right in the middle of his hair. He swung back with an even sterner warning to Dean on his lips only to stop when he caught sight of Sam arms still raised in the air in triumph.

The younger Winchester quickly lowered his arms and adopted a look just as innocent as his brother's. "Wasn't me," he said.

Castiel glanced from one to the other. "Then who…?'

"Gummy Bears," Dean suddenly blurted out. "It must have been Gummy Bears."

"Gummy Bears," Castiel repeated.

"You know," Sam explained hand waving vaguely in the air as he exchanged glances with his brother. "Gummy Bears. They're a close relative of the Jelly Baby."

Castiel's frown only deepened. He had heard nothing of any gelatinous offspring.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. They like to hide in motel rooms and throw worms at people they don't like. You can't see them because they're invisible."

"Actually, they change colour and blend into their surroundings like chameleons," said Sam.

"Exactly," Dean agreed enthusiastically. "And they live off of donut frosting. We had some for breakfast this morning. That's probably what attracted them here."

Eyes narrowed, Castiel's intense gaze moved from one brother to the other. Dean's smile twitched slightly and Sam suddenly developed an odd cough.

Castiel didn't bother with anymore questions. Instead, he sighed and directed his attention to the movie that was still playing on the television screen. He wasn't really interested in it. He generally found human entertainment more confusing than intriguing, but he had a feeling that at the moment watching the screen would be rather safer than turning his back to look out the window once more.

**oooooo**

Sam grimaced and looked away from the TV screen. He really could have lived happily without ever having seen Steve Carell dance. Glancing over at his brother, he noticed that Dean was grimacing too, but he had the feeling it had more to do with the hand pressed tightly to his stomach than any of Steve Carell's dance moves. Sam shook his head. He knew the gummy worms would get their revenge eventually. For some reason, Dean seemed to believe that buying a 10lbs bucket of gummy worms meant you had to try to eat them all in one night.

Switching his gaze to Castiel, Sam found the angel staring at the screen with the same intensity he used on everything which, considering what was currently going on in the movie, was somewhat disturbing. Sam felt the tiniest twinge of guilt at having used the unsuspecting angel as target practice before and then trying to bamboozle him with their ridiculous story. He blamed it all on the bad influence of his older brother. Sometimes, it was a little too easy to confuse Cas something Dean often relished. Sam still wasn't entirely sure how much of the brothers' bullshit Castiel had actually bought. It wasn't always easy for Sam to guess what Castiel was thinking, but from what he could see now, the angel seemed to have moved on from what had happened earlier that evening and was completely engrossed in the movie, dancing and all.

Sam hoped the movie was nearing the end. His eyelids were beginning to droop and he was seriously considering giving in to their request for sleep. He was just about to drift off when a gummy worm hit him hard right between the eyes.

Suddenly wide awake once more, he gazed angrily to his brother. It was by no means the first candy to have hit him that night and he was really starting to have enough of this childish game.

Dean met his glare with a frown. "What?"

Sam held up the gummy worm that had struck him and gazed at Dean pointedly.

"Wasn't me," Dean insisted.

Sam rolled his eyes, but he knew Dean's maturity level was a lost cause so he went back to watching the TV.

A couple of minutes later, Dean let out a petulant cry of "Sam!"

Sam turned just in time to see Dean hurl another candy his way.

"Quit it! I told you it wasn't me," Dean protested grumpily. "And I've really had enough of gummy worms today."

"I didn't do anything," Sam said forehead furrowing.

"Well, I didn't either."

An orange and red gummy worm suddenly slammed against Dean's forehead the exact same moment Sam felt another hit his cheek. Dean froze with his mouth agape, the gummy stuck to his forehead. As Sam watched, it slowly detached hitting Dean's nose as it fell before finally landing in his lap. Dean turned his shocked stare to his brother and then as one, they both looked at Castiel.

The angel, who had been silent and still the whole time, slowly turned to meet their eyes. "Wasn't me," he said his face as serious as stone. "Must have been the Gummy Bears."


	17. Gifts from Heaven

**Title:** Gifts from Heaven  
**Characters: **Sam, Dean, Castiel  
**Rating:** G  
**Genre:** Hurt/Comfort, Humor  
**Word Count:** 1245  
**Spoilers:** None really, but set somewhere in season 5  
**Summary:** A tired and confused younger brother, a drugged and concussed older brother and an angel with a gift._  
_

* * *

**Gifts from Heaven**

**By Daylight**

A tired smile appeared on Sam's face as he finally saw his brother's eyes open. Glassy and unfocused, they blinked slowly; then seemed to roam randomly around the room before finally settling on Sam's face.

"Hey," said Dean, his voice weak and even hoarser than usual.

"Hey," Sam replied, his smile growing wider.

Dean's eyes started touring the room once more. "Hospital?"

"Yeah. Hospital, again." Sam found the controls for the bed and slowly raised it before handing Dean a paper cup containing water and a bendy straw.

"Wha…?" Dean questioned fairly incoherently before taking a small sip of the water. The cup wobbled unsteadily in his hand.

Sam took the cup and put it on the bedside table before Dean accidently spilt water over everything. "Troll, remember? It was terrorizing that small town just outside of Flagstaff. We found its lair, but it got the drop on you, literally, knocked you right over the side of a cliff."

Dean gave a small nod and then winced lifting a hand to the purple speckled bruise that marred his forehead. "Stupid rock munchers need to stick to eating goats," he muttered. "Should've mashed his face in with hot mustard."

Sam frowned. That sounded a bit odd even for Dean. "Dean, are you…"

"Did you get it?" Dean interrupted looking up at his brother, his eyes shinning a little too brightly.

"Yeah, I got it, just before I dragged your sorry concussed ass to the hospital. Are you okay?"

Dean stared down at his body. He poked at the IV in the back of his hand. He examined a large bruise on his right arm. He wiggled his toes. He peeked under the blanket covering him and fingered the bandage on his stomach.

"I don't know. Am I okay?" he asked sounding a little dazed.

"You're fine," Sam said slowly and carefully. "You have a minor concussion and there was some internal bleeding, but the surgeons took care of that."

"Oh, did they leave a cool scar?" Dean lifted the blanket again and began picking at the bandage on his stomach.

"Stop that." Sam pushed his brother's hands away and tucked the blanket back down tightly around him.

Fortunately, or maybe not so fortunately, Dean was distracted by something else. Gazing up at his brother, he suddenly broke into laughter. "Floppy puppy dog hair," he managed to get out between giggles.

Sam sighed and made a mental note to ask the nurse what kind of pain medication they were giving Dean. Hopefully, this was just a combination of too many drugs and the after effects of a concussion.

"Sam Sam Sammy Sam. I have a big little brother," Dean mumbled. "Big marshmallow man. You're the marshmallow man!" He pointed at Sam and then burst into giggles once more.

"Sure, I'm the marshmallow man." Sam wasn't sure if he should be annoyed, concerned or amused. He'd never seen Dean this out of his head not even when he was shit-faced drunk.

There was a flutter of feathers and suddenly a familiar figure was standing on the other side of Dean's hospital bed.

"Big bird!" Dean cried.

Castiel stood there mouth half open Dean having derailed whatever the angel had been about to say.

"Don't worry about it, Cas," Sam reassured him. "Dean's okay. He's just a little… drugged."

Castiel's mouth slowly closed into a frown, but he nodded. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to come earlier, but I was outside my coverage zone. I only just got your message."

"Talking to penguins in Antarctica again, huh?"

"Killer whales in the Pacific Ocean," Castiel replied with perfect seriousness.

Sam raised his eyebrows but decided it was best not to ask. He had enough weirdness in his life already.

"I brought a gift," Castiel continued and Sam noticed for the first time the object held in the angel's hands. "I understand it's the traditional thing to do in these circumstances."

Sam could only stare.

"The woman at the gift shop assured me this was appropriate," Castiel explained holding out the gift.

It was a teddy bear.

A black teddy bear with a green bow around its neck.

Sam looked at Dean completely expecting to see an expression of disgust on his brother's face. Instead, he found Dean reaching for the offered gift his gaze filled with awe.

"Isn't he adorable?" said Dean as he took the bear from Castiel and gave it a hug. "I think I'll name him Ulrich, Ulrich Bear. Thanks, Cas."

"You're welcome, Dean."

Placing his face in his hands, Sam let out a sound that was half laugh, half groan. He wondered if he should try and save Dean's battered reputation or follow his little brother instincts and milk this for all it's worth. It was very hard to ignore his little brother instincts especially while Dean was lying there cuddling his new bear.

Looking up from his gift, Dean glared accusingly at Sam. "How come you didn't get me something?"

"Um… I haven't had time," Sam replied. "Maybe later."

Dean's face fell. "You don't love me anymore."

"What? No." Suddenly, it wasn't so funny. "Of course, I love you," Sam insisted though it felt odd hearing the words said out loud.

"No, you don't." Tears slowly began to leak down Dean's pale face.

"Dean…"

"Cas loves me. He got me Ulrich."

Sam looked over at Castiel and found the angel staring at him condemningly as if Sam had purposely set out to make his brother cry.

"He's only my best friend," Dean continued between sobs. "And he acts like a dick half the time. You're my brother!"

"I do love you, Dean. I do," said Sam desperate to stop the sobbing. "And I did get you something." He did a quick survey of the room and searched through his pockets which proved annoyingly empty. Finally, with a sigh, he took off his shirt and handed it to Dean. "Here."

Dean looked at him, his eyes wide with wonder, the tears miraculously gone. "You're giving me your shirt?"

Hesitantly, Sam nodded.

Dean held the shirt to himself cuddling it the same way he had the bear. "Smells like Sam," he whispered. He turned to Castiel. "I love my brother. Did you know that? He's awesome."

"Yes, I know," Castiel replied.

Dean snuggled down into the bed holding both teddy bear and shirt close to him. "Best brother in the whole world," he muttered his voice growing heavy with sleep and his eyes falling closed. "I love my Sammy."

The sight of Dean lying there in the hospital bed cuddling his gifts made Sam want to laugh, but for some reason, he felt tears stinging his eyes instead.

"He'll be alright," said Castiel.

Sam wasn't sure if that was a statement or a question, but he answered it anyway. "Yeah, he'll be fine. Should be back to his normal badass self by the time he wakes up."

Hearing the sound of wings, Sam looked over and found he and Dean were alone again. The angel was gone. Sam sniffed and wiped the wayward water from his eyes before sitting back down in the chair at Dean's bedside.

Dean was fast asleep and already snoring slightly, his face still coloured with bruises, but for once, actually seeming at peace.

With a warm smile on his face, Sam leaned back and settled in to watch over his sleeping bother once more.


End file.
